In Your Room
by EmothicNerd
Summary: Quinn's dated Finn for years, and Santana's as straight as a ruler - or so she believes. What happens when alcohol disturbs the balance? An unusual love story that begins in one room. Quinn x Santana.
1. Wake Me Up Inside

**Hey guys! So this is a new fic I'm starting. I've decided to make things a little different and have a Quinntana fic, just because I've recently discovered that I ship them pretty hardcore (lol) and I thought it'd be cool to write a fic about them. It'll be a little lighter than No Light in Your Bright Blue Eyes, so I hope you like it!**

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><p><strong>{ Q U I N N ' S P O V }<strong>

The alarm clock goes off.

I wake up, but my eyes do not open immediately. What time is it? I roll over and mutter nonsense. I slept rather late last night and my head is hurting. It isn't a hangover, I didn't drink much at the party. I hate headaches. With a groan I smash my hand against the alarm clock to shut it off.

Then I feel movement next to me. What?

My eyes open immediately, and they fall onto someone's back. A large back, at that, covered with what appears to be a gray shirt. My eyes trail up the back and arrive at what appears to be a set of black hair. I recognize the hair immediately. What is he doing here?

I sit up and place my hand on his shoulder. I push him lightly, though I'm sure he is already awake since he just finished moving. "Finn?" I mutter his name.

He hums tiredly and moves slightly at my touch. It isn't enough to fully wake him however, so I shake him a little. "Finn," I repeat myself, slightly annoyed.

Finally he rolls over to face me, his handsome self smiling at me. He is the cutest boy I've ever encountered in my life, it is hard to believe he is mine at times. I'm obviously the prettiest girl at our school, and he is the hottest boy. Cheerleaders and football players are a cliché couple, but we don't care. We love each other, and that's all that matters. We've been dating since our sophomore year, and now, in our senior year, we are as strong as ever. He respects my wishes to wait until marriage to have sex, even if at times I see he is frustrated by it. But we are both virgins, and that makes me feel secure about the both of us. I have never seen him look at another girl the way he looks at me, and vice versa with me.

I've never been interested in anyone else, and I never will be. Finn is the one I'm going to marry.

"Good morning beautiful," he whispers sweetly to me. I can't help but smile, but it doesn't take away from the fact that I had no idea why he was in my bed. Crap, maybe I was drunk. But I've never been drunk before, and I could've sworn I only had one bottle of beer. Wait…then again maybe Puck had given me a wine cooler. Or two… shit maybe I _was_ drunk.

"What happened last night?" I ask him, sort of rudely pushing away his attempt at being cute. "Wait." My head whips toward the door, which is closed. As I take in my surroundings, I see that I'm in my room. The shades are down, so it's dark. I'm in my room…in my house…where my parents are probably dwelling.

I turn back to Finn. "What are you doing here!" I exclaim in a whisper. If my parents find him here they'll freak. They are way more religious than I am, and if they are even exposed to the possibility that I've had sex with Finn they would probably kick me out of the house. I swore to not only them but to God that I would remain abstinent, no matter how hot Finn and me's make-out sessions are. And now that I realize my fears of my parents walking in on us, I get a sick feeling in my stomach. I can't remember how I got home last night. What if Finn and I…

"Well I had to help you –" I interrupt Finn as I jump to my next concern.

"We didn't…?" I can't even bring the words up for fear of jinxing myself.

Finn sees the concerned look on my face, and he sits up. So much for the romance, but romance is the last thing I want to think about. I bite my lip as I fearfully await his reply.

"No. We didn't," he tells me, shaking his head. His facial expression is that of a worried-for-Quinn look, not a I'm-trying-to-cover-it-up look. Finn is a horrible liar anyway, so of course I believe him.

The sick feeling in my stomach dissipates, and I let out a sigh of relief.

Finn continues to talk. "Your parents weren't home and you could barely walk properly, so I just came upstairs with you and you asked me to sleep with you." His eyes widen, making me confused. Shit, please do not tell me he just remembered something I didn't want to hear about.

"Uh – I mean – I mean not sleep with you like we did anything! I meant, uh, literally sleep with you!"

Oh, that's just Finn being his awkward self. My relief forms a smile on my face, and I tilt my head to the side. He's so cute when he's awkward, especially when he freaks out about saying what he thinks sounds wrong. He isn't the bright bulb in the tanning bed, but he's mine, and intelligence has never been an important factor to me.

I chuckle and lean into toward his face. My lips lightly connect with his, but I don't make the kiss last long. I pull away just as he kisses me back, and I look into his dark eyes, the smile still on my face.

"You're so sweet," I tell him, my hand reaching up to the top of his head. I run my fingers through his hair, which is as soft as Egyptian cotton. It's certainly looking a little too long for my liking, however. I only approve if his raven black hair is no longer than two inches above his scalp, any longer and I tell him to cut it. Like right now, as I am about to tell him he needs a trim. He always does as I say though, which is good because I don't like to be protested against.

"And you also need to cut your hair," I tell him with a slight frown. I take some of his hair and pull it lightly, and he simply looks at me with a dazed expression. He always has that dumb look on his face, and it's annoying sometimes because I don't have patience for him being so confused all the time.

"Why are you looking at me like I have two heads?" I growl. His expression changes immediately to something less dazed, and he looks away to his left.

"Nothing. I'll get it cut as soon as I can," he tells me quickly. I smile and release his hair. Then my head pounds, reminding me that I'm apparently suffering from a hangover.

"Was I drunk?" I ask him, though he alluded to that fact when he had told me that I couldn't even walk without help. It was still unlike me to drink that much alcohol though, and it concerns me. I remember laughing and fooling around with my fellow Cheerios and some of Finn's football teammates in Santana's house, but that was all I could recall. What caused me to drink so heavily?

"Yeah," Finn says. "I think Santana challenged you to a drinking game, and you both got pretty hammered. I wasn't around when it happened though, I was hanging out with Azimio and Karofsky on her porch."

I look down at my quilt in thought. Santana… very vaguely I can recall now. What Finn said is making sense. Yes, I can remember Santana drinking with me. The other Cheerios cheering us on. But that's it. I can't remember if Santana said anything that drove me to accept her challenge, or if I just felt like doing it because I wanted to. Ugh, I must've drunken a lot if I can't remember anything else.

"Okay," I say a bit distantly. I'll investigate it more when I get to school on Monday. I have a more important issue to deal with – getting Finn out of here without my parents seeing him.

I get out of my bed, revealing that I'm wearing only my underwear with my green blouse. This revelation makes me turn slowly around to face Finn, a suspicious scowl on my face. He looks at me in horror, still sitting on my bed, and quickly shakes his head.

"N-no! I didn't do that I swear!" he says a bit too loudly. I quickly shush him before he can alert my parents that he's here. Is he stupid? He's going to get us both killed!

Finn continues to speak but quietly. "You insisted that you go to bed like…that." His face turns beet red, which I find very amusing but I refuse to show him that. "I did what you said, I didn't want to upset you…"

He's honest, I love that about him. I instead decide to drop the subject and look for a new outfit to wear so my parents don't get suspicious seeing me in the same outfit as last night. I find a simple white long sleeve t-shirt and a pair of jeans. I'm not planning to go anywhere today so there's no need to dress up. I'm about to take off my shirt until I realize that Finn is still in the room. I turn to look at him and raise an eyebrow.

"You mind?" I hint to him.

Finn realizes he shouldn't be staring and quickly turned around so his back is to me. It's still uncomfortable to change in front of him since this has to be the first time he's even seen me in my underwear, but I still slip into my new outfit and throw my old shirt onto the bed. I check the mirror to see how bad I look, and I see that my hair is a frizzy mess and my eyes are red. Shit, my parents will be alarmed if they see me like this.

I easily fix the hair problem by tying it up in a ponytail, but the eye problem can't be helped so I leave it. Hopefully I'll think of an excuse by the time my parents notice, I just have to focus on getting Finn the hell out of here.

"Stay here and don't move," I tell Finn before heading out of my room and closing the door behind me. I can only hope that he doesn't do anything stupid for once. One time when he was at my house for dinner, he accidentally slipped that he didn't believe in abstinence in front of my parents, and my dad had such a fit about it later on that I almost wasn't even allowed to date him anymore. But with a lot of convincing and my Quinn charm, I managed to convince my dad that Finn still respected my wishes of being abstinent, and that never in his life did he try to make me break my vow. That in itself was a lie because there has been a couple of times where he tried to push it, but considering Finn did enough damage stretching the truth a little was absolutely necessary. Needless to say he got an earful from me after I settled the situation. I can still remember his horrified expression as I lashed out at him. It was quite amusing.

I'm not about to risk my relationship with him again. My parents are already suspicious of him because of his stupid slip-up – which was seriously a year ago, but they can never seem to let it go – and if they find him here then I'm going to be banned from dating period. I head downstairs, the sunlight from outside illuminating my entire house and making the cream-colored walls appear as if they were glowing. The bright lights shoot through my eyeballs and stabbed my brain, making my eyes tear up a little from the pain. God damn, having a hangover sucks.

Family pictures of my family are hung around all over the house – blonde hair conquers every inch of the house, more of the blonde hair of my sister Frannie than anyone else – and my furniture so regal and ancient-looking it's as if my mother thought we were actually royalty when she first decorated the house.

I find my parents eating pancakes in the dining room, so I join them.

"Good morning darling!" my mother sings. Her loud voice stabs me in the brain as well. Why is everything hurting me?

My mom is eating her famous blueberry pancakes with a glass of orange juice. Out of everything my mother ever made in the kitchen, her blueberry pancakes have to be my favorite thing she's ever made. My father has just finished chewing and swallow a piece of pancake and smiles at me.

"Good morning Quinn," he greets me.

I sit on the chair closest to my mother and smile at both my parents. "Good morning."

"I made you some pancakes dear, would you like some?"

My stomach decides to be a bitch and feel sick at that moment, shooting down the bit of appetite I had. The blueberry pancakes in front of my mother transforms in front of my very eyes, turning from a circular delicacy of fruity goodness to a mesh of disgusting ingredients that has blue spots hinting from beneath the surface, reminding me of the mold in bread. No, I do not want any pancakes unless I want to vomit.

"No thanks Mom," I tell her, too queasy right now to even look at the pancakes. I look away for fear of vomiting on the spot.

"Really?" My mother sounds surprised. I never turn down her pancakes, and I feel like punching myself right now because I just made it obvious that something was wrong with me. I should've pretended that I did want the pancakes just so she wouldn't question me. Damn it.

"Quinn are you okay?" my father asks, a concerned look on his face. I'm silently cursing myself for being so stupid. Clearly I'm a Finn Hudson when I'm hung over.

"Yeah Daddy I'm fine. I'm just not very hungry right now," I tell him, looking down at the table.

"Quinn? What's wrong with your eyes?" My mother begins to lean toward me. Shit!

I lean back. I need to think of an excuse quickly. "I didn't get any sleep last night," I tell her as calmly as I can. My heart is pounding in fear that my parents wouldn't buy it and that I was going to be caught. I won't be allowed out of the house ever again if they find out I was drunk.

But my mother insists, and I know I'm going to be caught now. "No Quinn, your eyes, it looks like-"

The doorbell rings. Ow.

All three of us turn our heads in the direction of the door. What perfect timing, I owe whoever was on the other side of that door.

"I'll get it!" I volunteer as I jump up from the table. Before my mother can protest I speed away from the dining room and to the door. I was curious as to who would be here so early on a Saturday, but that person is my savior.

I open the door, and to my surprise it's Finn standing in the doorway. My jaw drops and I can't seem to breathe at the moment. What the hell? How did he get outside? I see that his hair is messier than it was when he was in my room, and there was actually a few leaves stuck in his hair. And dirt rested on his left cheek. I trail down his body. There is dirt on smeared on his gray t-shirt and jeans, and his chest is expanding and retracting quickly as if he is out of breath.

"What- how…what the hell are you doing?" I whisper furiously at him. The whole point was to get him out of here without being seen, and now he's literally arriving at my doorstep. Does he want us to get caught?

"I climbed out of the window," he tells me with a proud smile. "I didn't know how long you were going to be with your parents, and then I remembered that you look really hung over and I didn't want your parents to suspect anything. So I figured I come to the rescue."

Any annoyance I have felt toward him disappears immediately, and I grin at him. Sure, he isn't smart, but that was a very smart plan and it seems to be working. I lean against the doorway, unable to stop smiling. Could he be any more perfect?

I bring my hand up to his hair and pick out the leaves that are trapped. He has no idea how badly I want to kiss him right now, and if this plan works I owe him a very heavy make-out session. I can't imagine any other guy going through all this just for me, and I open my mouth to tell him how fantastic of a boyfriend he is. But instead of my voice I hear my mother's voice just behind me.

"Oh, hello Finn!" She appears next to me and is smiling at Finn. Hopefully she's forgotten about my eyes at this point. "What are you doing here?"

Finn turns his attention to my mother and smiles at her. "Morning Mrs. Fabray! I was just dropping by to see if maybe Quinn wanted to go out to have breakfast or something."

Oh my God. I love him so much.

"Quinn just told me she isn't hungry," my mother says, and my eyes shoot daggers at her for trying to screw all of this up. "Right sweetie?"

"Finn drove all the way out here Mom. I'll go with him." I look at Finn and smile. "If that's alright with you."

Finn nods. "Um, yeah sure! If you're not hungry maybe we can just get a shake or something."

Uh, no. "In the morning?" I question. Shakes in the morning? Who does that? Jesus, he's so stupid sometimes.

Finn scratches the back of his head nervously. "Well no not shakes. Um…we can just see if you're hungry by the time we get there."

Better. "Mom?" I turn to look at my mother.

She looks at the both of us, but mostly me. Shit, she's probably looking at my eyes again. I bite my lip as I silently plead her to let me go with Finn. I don't really care if she knows anything, it's my father I'm worried about. He calls all the shots in this house, and if he finds anything out it'll be the end of me.

"Alright, I don't see why not. But honey at least fix your makeup. It's all smeared and…well, y'know." She grimaces.

Shit, my makeup. But I'm not going to question my only escape route. "Yeah I'll go get ready.," I tell her with a nod, then I look at Finn. "Wait here for a few minutes?"

"I'd wait an eternity," he tells me with a cheesy smile. I can't help but smile back, and my mother smiles too as she takes this in like something out of a romance film. I'm almost sad about having to separate myself from him right now. He saved me, he saved us. He always tries his hardest to be the best boyfriend ever, and sure I admit I don't show that I appreciate it often, but he should already know that I do. Hell, I'm sure he appreciates having me around, too. So we're even.

I turn around and head upstairs, but while I'm in earshot I hear my mother ask Finn something.

"Finn dear, why on earth do you look like you just came back from rolling down a hill?"

I hold back laughter as reach the top of the stairs and hear Finn's muffled answer.

I love him so much.

* * *

><p>I'm going to try and not kill my lab partner. But I'm not sure how long I can last.<p>

"_Quinn_. The iodine goes in _this_ tube. Not that one," says the extremely annoying Rachel Berry. My worst nightmare had been getting this little Jewish troll as my lab partner, and I was scot-free for the past three years. But it figures that the universe would wait until my last year of high school to make the most annoying girl in the school my lab partner. Now I have to deal with her constantly bossing me around and trying to prove me wrong. She forgets that I'm the smartest cheerleader on the squad – meaning I don't need Coach Sylvester to bribe any of the teachers to pass me – and I know what the hell I'm doing. I understand that Jews have a natural gift to be smart at everything pertaining to the law or science, but that doesn't mean I'm incompetent at what I do.

"I'm going to shove one of these tubes up that humongous beak of yours if you don't shut the hell up," I snap at her as I squeeze the iodine in whatever freaking tube I desire. Of course, she was right about the tube being the wrong one, because the chemical inside turns into a chocolate brown instead of a bright green. Shit.

"I told you," she mutters, and that just pisses me off more.

"Oh, my bad Berry. I forgot that while I'm out having an actual social life with friends and a _boyfriend_ you're stuck home reading the story of the great prophet Moses and how he parted the Red Sea to your vast collection of stuffed animals and still somehow manage to squeeze some study time in your schedule."

"Quinn," I hear Finn's voice behind me. "C'mon that's enough." He takes the same chemistry class as me, but the teacher wouldn't let us be partners so I was stuck with Rachel and he was as least stuck with someone that was likeable, Puck.

My head whips in his direction as I give him the same angry look I gave Rachel. "Oh I'm sorry. Are you dating her now? I'm happy for the both of you."

Puck is biting his lip, trying to hold back laughter. Oh, so he finds humor in this. Well, nothing about this is funny. "And you Puckerman? Are you finish sticking it in every girl in Ohio?"

He gives me a cocky smirk. "All but one." Oh no he didn't just –

Finn looks at Puck and shoulders him defensively. "Dude, not cool!" he growls, making Puck look at him in annoyance.

"What dude? I never said I was going after her." Yeah, right. He can never stare at me without drooling.

Finn looks back at me and leans in so the rest of the class doesn't have to hear him. "Look, I'm not interested in Rachel-" From the corner of my eye I see Rachel looking down. "- I just think insulting her is pointless. C'mon Quinn you've been doing it since freshman year, at least let her enjoy her last year here."

I'm offended that Finn is on Rachel's side. He always seemed to be over the years, and no matter how many times I've told him to stop he wouldn't listen. Now he's going to bring this over to this year? Well, maybe Finn should just date Rachel then. It's obvious Rachel has a huge crush on Finn. She's had it ever since Finn and I started dating. It's like she's willing to go through my abuse just so she can be closer to Finn, which is disgusting. Finn has standards, he would never go out with someone like that. Especially when he has me.

"I'll let her enjoy whatever the hell she wants when she finally decides to come back to reality and stop trying to use her Jew-doo magic to make you fall in love with her!" I hear a small gasp escape Rachel's lips.

"Hey!" Puck protests. Right, I forgot he was Jewish. Whatever.

Finn frowns at me. "Quinn, that's not fair. You know I'm only in love with one girl and that's you."

My eyes go to Rachel, who refuses to look in my direction. Her face is almost as red as the chemical on Finn and Puck's table, and I feel like she's about to cry. Good.

"I know that," I tell Finn, my eyes locked on Rachel. "I trust you. It's her I don't trust. So until she backs off, I'm not stopping."

Finn can't think of anything else to say to me, so he continues with the lab. I leave him and Puck and go back to my own. Rachel is quiet and still, and I look at her just to make sure she's breathing. I then focus on our lab, which I finish off by myself with Rachel just standing there moping. So pathetic.

If anything she should be grateful that I smacked her in the face with all of that. She can't keep living in some fantasy land where she thinks that her and Finn are ever going to end up together. He's in love with me. Lucy Quinn Fabray. And plus, he's never even spoken to her before. He would never be interested.

I finish cleaning everything up just as the bell rings. I say nothing to Rachel and I skip over to Finn and take his hand in my. Our hands seem to match so well together. His hand has to be double the size of mine, but we make the whole intertwining our fingers together thing work. His palm always gets hot and sweaty really fast under my touch, like right now. We aren't even out the door and his hand is already sweaty. It's adorable. Gross, considering his sweat is sticking onto my palm, but adorable nonetheless.

I lean close to him as we enter the crowded hallway. Thank God that's the last class of the day, now I can get on with my life free of Rachel Berry. I have cheerleading practice, but Finn also has football practice. It's convenient, since he always drives me home after school. He also drives me to school in the mornings, which my dad finds easy for him since that means he doesn't have to drive me himself, but that makes me wonder why the hell he would ever want Finn and me to break up in the first place. He's always hard on Finn, which pisses me off because Finn always tries to live up to his standards.

Personally I think Finn is worthy to date a Fabray. I just wish my stupid father thought the same.

We arrive at my locker first. I spin on my toe so I'm facing him, our hands still linked together. "I'll see you after practice?"

Finn gives me his usual half-smirk and nods. I smile back and lean up to peck him on the lips, finally releasing his hand from mine. "I love you," I tell him.

"I love you too," he responds, and with that he walks away to his own locker.

I enter my locker combination and open it to start packing. Unlike the other cheerleaders of the squad, I always do my homework. I'm a class favorite because I always give in my assignments on time and get pretty good grades on my own, keeping to the old Fabray name. My sister Frannie was a Cheerio just like me, and she too was the smartest girl on the squad. Teachers here adored her, even Coach Sylvester. I followed in my sister's footsteps by becoming a Cheerio captain in my sophomore year of high school, an achievement saved for only the best cheerleaders in the squad. Frannie had done the same thing when she went to school here, and sometimes I feel like Coach Sylvester especially likes me because I remind her so much of my older sister.

I sense someone stopping next to my locker, but my locker door is blocking the person's face. I pay no mind to it, I never really acknowledge anyone unless they talk directly to me. But that's exactly what the person did.

"You know Quinn, you should save the PDA with your potato sack boyfriend for when you guys are at home watching re-runs of Mysteries of the Church and praying the Hail Mary ten times every time you think about doing the nasty with each other."

I know the face before I even close my locker.

"Hello to you too, Santana."

Santana smirks as she leans against the locker next to mine. I'm a bitch, but Santana is ten times worse than I am. And the scary part is she's actually being nice with the insults today. Last week she told me that I'm only abstinent because if I did have sex with Finn, he'd be so turned off that he would go off looking for the cheerleader with Down Syndrome, Becky, and find her to be way more pleasurable sexually than me. I can't decide what was worse. The fact that she insulted a girl with a disorder, or she was challenging my sex appeal. Either way, it upset me and I almost ended up throwing her against some lockers.

"You're looking rather healthy today. I figured after being so trashed on Friday you'd come into school wearing some of Finn's blubber to shield yourself from bright lights and loud noises," she says to me, somehow without laughing. I'm guilty of wanting to laugh a little at what she said, but I don't want to show any weakness. Instead, I narrow my eyes and frown.

"My boyfriend isn't fat Santana," I tell her firmly.

She rolls her eyes. "Please, his boobs are bigger than yours."

I grind my teeth in annoyance. "Are you here just to annoy me or what?"

She tilts her head to the side and shows teeth in her smile. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. I've never seen a drunk Quinn Fabray before, it was really entertaining."

My hands drop to my side. Wait, maybe Santana can tell me what the hell happened on Friday. Surely she was more sober than I was. "Wait, do you remember what happened on Friday? Finn told me what he saw but he doesn't know the full story."

Santana's smile weakens slightly but I don't think on it. She glances away for a moment before focusing on me, and her smile grows again. "You were really hammered, weren't you? Okay, I was telling you to stop being such a pussy with the one beer you had, and you got pissed because I was taunting you. So we had our own little competition to see who could drink the most."

Damn, nothing is coming to me. How is Santana able to remember everything?

"I won, obviously," she continues. "And it's sad that those wine coolers Puck gave you almost made you pass out on the spot. Wine coolers, Fabray? Do you have the liver of a fucking chipmunk?"

I suck my teeth. Alright so I don't have the greatest tolerance for alcohol, but that's because I need some practice. I only drink one beverage per party, and that party was the first time I went all out. Of course I would lose the drinking game, Santana has way more experience than me.

"Whatever," I mutter.

A laugh escapes her lips. Ugh, she has the cruelest sense of humor. Granted, I'm not a saint, but I look like a saint compared to her. But, she is my friend, as much as I hate her guts at times. She was one of the first friends I ever made at this school, before she became the slutty asshole she is today.

Yeah, that's right. Santana Lopez used to be a decent person.

Freshman year, the both of us were decent people. It wasn't until we joined the Cheerios that we realized that nice girls finish last. Becoming power-hungry demons that need popularity to survive, we changed ourselves completely. I don't regret it, after all if I was the same girl I was freshman year I would be just like Rachel Berry – annoying and irrelevant.

But while I kept some of my old qualities, Santana changed everything about her. The change was scary, but now as I'm approaching the end of my high school career I'm used to it. Santana is what she was always meant to be. And I don't care.

It's just annoying when she gets all bitchy at me. I don't take kindly to bitchiness.

Santana looks at her nails. "As much as I would love to talk about your boyfriend's voluptuous breasts, we really should be getting to Cheerio practice before Sylvester shoots us out of that canon she's been building."

I agree. The coach is a nightmare when she's pissed.

"Alright," I tell her. "Let's go."


	2. Fire Around the Brim

**{ S A N T A N A ' S P O V }**

_I am freaking the fuck out._

I thought for sure that Quinn would remember what happened at my party, but apparently she was too fucking dead to recall anything.

Wait, why am I angry about it? She doesn't remember, I should be fucking pissing my pants in happiness.

As long as Quinn doesn't remember, I should be okay. No one else from the party knows. I'm the only one that should know. No one else. Except maybe Brittany. I haven't told her about it yet, but I tell her everything. She's the most nonjudgmental person ever. I've told her plenty of horrible things I've done, and she's never chastised me for it. Sure, there are times where she's disappointed in me but other than that she never becomes any less of a friend.

Maybe I should tell Brittany. This isn't the sort of thing I should keep to myself. Telling another person will make me feel better. Especially someone that I trust with my life. I'll tell Britt after Cheerio practice, when we're alone. Yeah.

Having Quinn walking so close to me isn't helping the fucking cause though.

I don't know why it's bothering me now. She's walked this close to me before. I've never paid mind to it. But I'm noticing it now and it's making me uncomfortable. Okay, I really need to calm down. She's just making me feel this way because of what happened on Friday.

I have to admit, I'm pretty jealous of Quinn being too drunk to remember anything. I wish I was that drunk.

But shit, if I had a liver the size of hers, I would be dead with the amount of alcohol I drank.

"So what exactly happened after I lost that drinking game?" she asks me.

My heart skips a beat and I whip my head in her direction. Okay, I have to be careful and not act too obvious. I can't have her being suspicious as to what happened.

"Nothing really," I lie, mentally patting myself on the back for how calm I've been sounding up to this point. I was disappointed though earlier with my insults. Usually they're a lot harsher than what I said to Quinn, but I've been so restless about Friday I couldn't think of some really painful attacks. Surely she noticed, it was so unlike me. Fuck.

"Finn just came in and took you home." Hopefully she won't investigate this further by asking Finn or someone else who was at the party. There was a big gap between what happened when she lost and when Finn took her home, and if she finds that out she'll come back to me with more questions and I'll have no choice but to tell her the truth.

And I can't have her knowing the truth.

"I didn't do anything crazy?"

Yes. "No. You're boring as fuck as a drunk too."

She rolls her eyes. "I thought you said I was entertaining."

Oh, I said that? Oops, that was a slip-up. "While you were drinking, yeah. Afterwards you just got boring again." Lies, all lies. It was after the game that was the most entertaining part.

"Oh, because you're so fun when you're drunk."

"Perdón, I'm fucking amazing when I'm drunk."

She cracks a smile. I have to admit her smile is one of her best features, it just makes me want to smile too- okay Santana, what the hell are you thinking?

"Whatever San." Yeah, whatever.

We walk outside into the football field for practice. Some of the football players are there already, but they're on the other side so they don't interfere with our cheer practice. I immediately separate myself from Quinn and rush over to Brittany.

Brittany is tying her blonde hair into a ponytail, and she smiles when she sees me. "Hi San!"

Her smile's contagious. I smile back. "Hey Britt. What's up?"

"Did you know that tomato sauce and ketchup are both made of tomatoes?" she randomly tells me, her eyes wide. "So that means I can have tomato sauce with my French fries if I run out of ketchup!"

Brittany's a simple person. I always just go along with what she says so she doesn't feel bad. "That's great Britt."

"I know! And it's so awesome that Quinn isn't dead from Friday. Kurt and me were betting on whether she was going to die or not because she's not used to that much alcohol."

"Aw, you bet that she wasn't going to die?" That's sweet of her.

"No." She shook her head. "I bet that she was going to die. But it's still nice that she's not dead, I would miss her. I lost five dollars in the bet though."

Okay, I can't help but laugh so hard. Brittany's hilarious even though she doesn't try to be. And honestly I would bet that Quinn would die too. Her liver isn't prepared for that much alcohol consumption yet.

She smiles at my laughter, but I have to cut it short because I need to speak with her. Maybe I have some time to tell her what happened on Friday instead of waiting for two hours.

"Britt?"

The smile is still on her face. Seriously, sometimes I wonder if she was born smiling instead of crying. "Yeah San?"

I look down at the grass, thinking about just how I should say this. Brittany's heard me say worse things than this, right? A specific memory comes to mind, but I push it away immediately before I dwell on it. No, not that. I'm not going to think about that one.

I look back up at her and open my mouth to say something, but then Sylvester calls the Cheerios over with her megaphone.

"Gather 'round you pathetic excuses for living organisms!"

I attempt to say something to Brittany, but now my words are stuck in my throat. Damn, now isn't the time. "I'll tell you later."

Brittany nods and we both jog over to where Sylvester is, the other Cheerios joining us. The coach has her usual frowning face, and I can tell it's going to be a rough practice.

"Alright." Sylvester is still talking through her megaphone even though she's right in front of us, and it's hurting the hell out of my ears. "Break up into pairs. We're going to practice lifts." I flinch with every word she speaks as they attack my ear drums. I almost want to yell at her and tell her to turn off the damn megaphone, but the last time I talked back to her I ended up at the bottom of the pyramid for two weeks. So I'm not messing with her.

I turn to Brittany because I already mentally claimed her as my partner, but then Sylvester talks into the microphone. "I'm assigning the pairs today." I freeze. What did she just say?

She pairs everyone up herself, and guess who she assigns to be partners? Not me and Brittany. I watch in horror as she walks over to practice with Becky. Nope. There's only me and one other person left.

Quinn.

Kill me now.

* * *

><p>"San, help me stretch," Quinn commands. I don't like being told what to do, and I couldn't give two shits if she's the cheer captain. But unless I want Sylvester on my ass I have no choice.<p>

"Alright," I mutter. Quinn lifts up her leg and I grab it by the ankle. Instantly I lose all the air in my lungs in a deep breath. Damn, her leg feels so soft and smooth. I almost want to caress it, but that would be really weird and way too suspicious. Instead I pull her leg, purposely squeezing it so I can feel more of her ankle. It's only skin and durable bone. My eyes are locked onto her thighs, where it must feel really soft. I wonder how I could get away with touching them…

Santana Lopez, shut the fuck up.

"…rip my leg off," I hear her say. I was too busy admiring her leg to hear what she said.

I look up at her and blink. "What?"

She gives me a weird look. "I said let go before you rip my leg off."

"Oh." I drop her leg and shake my hands. Am I high? I was being so obvious just now. "Sorry."

She ignores my moment of weirdness and bends down to touch her toes. She effortlessly does so, and I just stand there like a dumbass watching her. It's no surprise that she's flexible, everyone has to be if they want to survive being on the squad. Yet I'm in awe staring at her.

"So I don't see you and Puck make out in the hallways anymore," Quinn says. "Did you guys break up or something?"

Why does she want to know? And this is a weird subject to make conversation with. But if it distracts me from staring at her like a hungry hippo at an all-you-can-eat buffet, I'm down with it.

"We were never together Quinn," I say as I roll my eyes.

"You make out with your friends?"

"I make out with everyone, Q."

She comes back up and looks at me. She raises her arms – which are quite toned, I must admit – and stretches out to her left. I should be stretching too but Sylvester hasn't said anything so I'm not bothering. "Correction, you have sex with everyone."

Low blow. "Fuck you Fabray," I mutter.

She chuckles. "Revenge for the Becky remark last week."

She's still on that? "Oh get over it Quinn."

"And I disagree with you. I think when Finn and I finally do the deed it'll be the best sex he's ever had."

I grimace. "It'll be the only sex he'll ever have, Mary Magdalene. Now please, stop talking about having sex with that sack of potatoes. My gag reflex is kicking in and I only use it after I eat."

"Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, Santana."

"Fine, insert whatever religious figure you please in place of that insult." She always has to be so fucking technical, especially with religious shit. I never got how she can be such a bitch but be so religious at the same time. Sure, my family's Catholic but we're not hardcore religious like her family is. It's annoying.

"Maybe you should practice abstinence Santana."

I laugh. Loud. So loud that Sylvester hears me from about a hundred yards away. She yells at me through her megaphone to stop slacking and get to work before she puts me at the bottom of the pyramid again. I pout at the threat and start stretching. Stupid coach.

I practice doing a split as I talk. "Quinnocence, when you finally get laid you'll see why abstinence is completely redundant."

Quinn stretches the other way, but she looks at me, her eyes squinting. "Who was your first, anyway?"

Weird question to ask. Is she getting interested in this subject? "Puck of course. Freshman year when he was on the JV football team."

"Stop stretching like a bunch of senior citizens trying to fight through their carpal tunnel and get to lifting, wussies!" Sylvester tells us through her megaphone.

Quinn and I stop stretching and walk toward each other.

"Do you want to lift or me?" Quinn asks.

I just want an excuse to touch her, fuck it. "I'll lift."

I crouch down and cup my hands together so Quinn can place her foot on it. Usually we have the queerleaders do this, but this year Sylvester didn't allow any guys on the squad, so we had to work out double the time in order to gain enough strength to lift each other.

"I hope you lost some weight over the weekend," I mutter.

Quinn smiles before she places her foot on my palms. I push up as she jumps at the same time, and I move fast and place one hand behind her thigh to hold her up, leaving the other under her shoe. Holy shit, her thigh is really soft.

Her soft thigh isn't enough to take away from the fact that it's a bit of a struggle to hold her up and keep my balance. She's slightly taller than I am, and is more muscular than me. It probably would've been a good idea to have her do the lifting, but my senses told me to accept the first excuse to touch her.

Why do I want to touch her so badly? I shouldn't be thinking like this.

"Too heavy for you San?" Quinn asks, and I don't need to look up at her to know she was smiling down to me. She leans forward as she tries to keep her balance, and her knee lightly touches my face. Wow. My face gets warm.

Only one of her feet is resting on my hand. The other is outwards, moving around constantly to help maintain her balance. Lifting is so much easier with more than two people, and I don't quite get why the coach put us in pairs instead of groups of three. Britt and I would have no problem doing this with her.

"Yeah actually," I finally respond, my breath coming in contact with her skin. Is this necessary? She's making me very unsettled. The hand that is on the back of her thigh moves downward so it's closer to the back of her knee. I feel that if I keep my hand in its previous position I will end up caressing it and just fuck everything up.

I finally look up at her and see that she is looking off into the distance, her arms extending outwards – another balancing technique. They refuse to stay in one place however, and I can tell she's really trying to keep her balance. She is smiling at something. I can't tell if it's at my remark or if it's something out in the distance.

We are silent for a few seconds, and I can hear the sounds of what is obviously the football players across the field behind me. Right, they have practice today as well. Then it I put two and two together, and I figure out that Quinn must be smiling at that pathetic excuse of a boyfriend she has.

Potato Sacks? Gross.

"Hey Q, if you're craving potatoes I can run over to McDonald's real quick," I remark as I look some other direction that's not her. Looking at her was getting too comfortable for my taste. I've never been that comfortable looking at her. What's going on?

I hear her suck her teeth. "I already told you he's not fat Santana."

I laugh. "Please, he makes Azimio look like Tyra Banks."

She doesn't like what I just said, because she moves suddenly and causes us both to lose our balance. I fall backwards and she falls opposite of me, letting out a short scream while I stay silent. We both go down with a thud, and I feel instant pain in my back. I let out a cough as a reflex, but other than that I feel fine. She's the one who was higher up in the air. I quickly sit up and crawl in her direction. She's on the floor, lying her back, and from the look on her face it seems like she's in pain.

"Are you okay?" I ask quickly and urgently, the worry in my voice very unlike me.

Her head turns to me and her face is stoic. Is she pissed that I let her fall? She's the one who moved out of nowhere and messed up our balance. But then she smiles, making me confused.

"I'm fine," she tells me quietly, and the way her voice sounds as the words escape her lips cause a shiver to go down my spine, and new heat to erupt onto the skin of my face. Am I blushing? I hope not. If I am the blush I applied on my cheeks this morning would hopefully cover it up.

"Is anything broken?" I hope my questioning and concerned tone doesn't throw her off. I've never been this worried about her safety before.

She sits up, but her face scrunches in pain as she does so. She doesn't get up, instead she places her hands on the ground behind her and leans back. She is still looking at me, and her hazel eyes are so powerful that I'm forced to look away from them for fear of being set on fire.

"No." Her eyes squint suspiciously. "You're awfully protective today."

Shit. "I don't want Sylvester blaming me for injuring the cheer captain." Perfect excuse, I deserve an Oscar. "Being the bottom of the pyramid sucks ass." I want to kiss myself for managing to make the worry in my voice disappear.

Quinn rolls her eyes and gets up, but groans in pain. She might not have broken anything, but she certainly made some new bruises. I get up after she does, and we both brush off our skirts at the same time.

"It's so your turn to lift," I tell her, making her laugh.

"Alright, c'mon-"

"You're all pathetic! Get over here now, we're doing a group activity. If I didn't lose my tear ducts in my boxing match with Mike Tyson in Ninety-Four I would be weeping at how terrible you're all doing!"

God fucking damn it Sylvester! I was so close to having Quinn touch me in the same places I was touching her.

And damn it Santana. Why the hell are you thinking like this?

Quinn sighs. "We better go before she offers us up as sacrifices to that rabid goat she claims she has."

I nod with a frown. I've never felt to cockblocked in my life. And we weren't even doing anything.

I follow Quinn's lead as we jog towards the coach, mentally putting the blonde-headed dyke at the top of my hit list.

And while I'm at it, I'll add myself for being a dumbass.

* * *

><p>My muscles ache so much. I would think I'd get used to the strenuous activities of Cheerio practice after being in it for four years, but the pain that comes with it is impossible to get used to. I'm just grateful that it's finally over.<p>

I walk over to Brittany, but Quinn catches the corner of my eye as she runs over to Finn, his fetus face covered with sweat and dirt. Gross. And…oh ew did she just kiss him? My gag reflex is kicking in, even though I trained myself to control it so it can only be activated when I want it to. I fight hard to swallow my disgust down, though it's not easy.

Brittany sees me in distress and blinks. "San, what's wrong?"

She catches my attention and my head turns quickly to her. Finally, I can tell her what happened.

"C'mon Britt, I have something to tell you." I grab her hand and pull her toward the bleachers for some privacy. I have a good ten minutes to tell her everything before my dad comes to pick us both up. And I need to tell her fast or else I'll explode.

"Sit," I command her as we arrive at the bleachers. She obeys and sits down immediately, and I sit down next to her. I don't look at her, instead I look at an awkwardly placed patch of grass a few inches away from my foot. How am I going to explain this?

I'm silent for longer than I intended. Through my peripheral vision I see Brittany tilt her head in confusion. "San?"

I snap out of it and look up at her. Okay, I can tell her now.

"Okay, at the party. Remember after Quinn vomited on my coffee table I took her upstairs to clean her up?"

Brittany smiles and nods. "Yeah San. That was really nice of you, if it was Puck or anyone you would've ripped their eyeballs out."

That's not the point I'm trying to make but whatever. "I would've kicked her ass if her boyfriend wasn't there. But anyway, something happened when I brought her upstairs."

Her smile fades and she gives me a curious look. "What?"

I take a deep breath before I explain everything.

* * *

><p><strong>~ SANTANA'S STORY ~<strong>

Okay Britt, I don't want you to judge me okay? Just… keep silent until after I tell you everything.

It was pretty gross when Quinn vomited on my coffee table – and by the way I forgot to thank you for helping me clean everything up – and as much as I wanted to punch Quinn in her fucking face for getting sick after a bottle of beer, two wine coolers, and four shots of Grey Goose, I didn't want to make a scene with her boyfriend chilling with Azimio and Karofsky on the porch, so I figured I keep true to the meaning of my name and act like a saint and help her out.

So I brought her upstairs into my bathroom so she could wash out the gross smell of vomit from her mouth. I figured it'd be safer to use the bathroom that's attached to my room so if she vomited again my parents wouldn't smell it in the family bathroom. So – with great difficulty because she forgot how to fucking walk – I dragged her to my room and into my bathroom.

Let me tell you, it took like five cups of mouthwash to get the smell out, and by the time I was finished with her she smelled like a human bottle of Listerine. But at least she didn't smell like vomit. Then she started getting weird on me.

"San," she told me. "San, Finn tried to get in my pants yesterday on my couch."

I looked at her as I was wrapping my arms around her so I could help her walk. "What the fuck do I care Fabray? Be happy he still wants to get in them."

She giggled and snorted afterwards. It was really classy for her, seriously. She swayed herself side-to-side in my arms as if she wanted to play a game.

"I know," she sang. "But I'm…abstinent." She giggled and snorted again.

I rolled my eyes and began to drag her out of the bathroom. She wasn't making any sense and she was annoying me with her pointless banter. I just wanted her out of my house right now.

Then she tripped and I almost fell down with her, but I was quick and managed to hold myself up. It was obvious that right now she was incapable of putting one foot in front of the other, and she was a bit too heavy for me to drag all the way downstairs – seriously it was a hassle just to hold her up in practice today – so I decided to just have her rest on my bed so she can regain her senses.

So I dragged her over to my bed while she moved her feet around in an attempt to walk but failed miserably. I sat her up on my bed and held her by the shoulders so she wouldn't fall over or anything. She started to stare at me and smiled like I had something on my face or something, and I got annoyed with her.

"What are you looking at Quinn?" I growled.

"You're so funny when you're annoyed," she told me and she giggled again.

I was already over the edge with her tonight, and having her act stupid while drunk just pushed me further.

"Okay you know what?" I pushed her back so she lay on her back, and I just stood there with my arms crossed. She could roll off the bed or do whatever she wanted, I was fed up with her.

"San," she called to me. "San where are you?" She was looking up at the ceiling and laughing to herself, and she held her hand out in my direction. She knew where I was, she was just being dumb.

"Quinn, you are so fucking retarded when you're drunk, oh my God."

"San, I can walk now okay?" She sounded so unconvincing, it was annoying. "San. Help me up I can walk."

But I decided to give it a try. If not then I would just push her back onto the bed. I took her hand, but then she surprised me and pulled me with such a force that I practically flew on top of her.

We were stomach-to-stomach, chest-to-chest…vag-to-vag. Is it weird that I notice that last part the most out of the three? My face was so close to hers that I was actually weirded out by the distance. Our noses were almost touching, and her cool Listerine breath tickled my skin.

She smiled at me, and her hazel eyes burned holes into my own.

"San," she whispered. None of this felt right. I was feeling sick to my stomach.

Her head moved up toward mine, and considering there was barely any space between our faces to begin with I moved my head away from hers.

"No," she told me, a bit louder but still softly.

The weird part? I listened to her. I could've just jumped off her at any moment. But now that she told me to stay, I was frozen. I chose to be frozen. I didn't want to move.

Now without resistance, she continued what she was doing and moved up. My eyes were closed, knowing what was coming. I could feel soft lips press into mine.

I never knew there was a difference between kissing guys and kissing girls, Britt. Girls' lips are so much…softer, and nicer. And it's more sensual I guess.

I kissed her back, and the sick feeling in my stomach morphed into something else. Butterflies, I would guess. Butterflies flying around my stomach. I never got this feeling with the other guys I've been with, Britt. Is that weird? Quinn's a girl…

We kissed for a long time, even though she tasted like the Listerine bottle she used to rinse out her mouth. Our lips just moved slowly, doing the waltz with each other. It wasn't passionate, it wasn't wild. It was just…well, nice. I was intrigued. I didn't want to separate from her. I was in Finn's shoes, I was doing exactly what Finn got to do with her. And for the first time I felt jealous of him, so jealous that he got to kiss those soft lips…

And then I realized that I was kissing my best friend who was a girl. I've never kissed a girl.

I freaked out as reality came crashing down from the ceiling, and I quickly flew off her. "What the fuck am I doing?" I yelled out to myself, not to her. I dug my hands into my hair as I stood by my bed, looking down at Quinn's feet. Damn, those were really nice black heels. And she looked so perfect in her yellow sundress. Quinn Fabray changed in front of my very eyes – I was starting to see her in a new light, from a new perspective that I was dragged into against my will.

She sat up and smiled at me. Oh that smile. It was unsettling. It made my heart race. I could barely find the sense to breathe.

I wanted to say something else, but now no words would come out. I just kissed Quinn Fabray, what was I supposed to do? What if she remembered the next day and then there was just a mess that would be impossible to clean up?

I hate that my body's used to large amounts of alcohol. I would give anything to be drunk at that moment.

Her hazel eyes ignited heat on my face. Her stare was blinding, I was going to melt if I kept looking at it. My lips were tingling, longing to touch hers once more. I brought my fingers up to my lips to make the sensation stop, but it wouldn't. I was beginning to feel light-headed, maybe I was going to vomit.

"Baby are you alright?" I heard behind me.

I turned around and saw Finn, a worried look on his face. Oh thank God, I'm usually repulsed by his appearance but I was the happiest girl in the world seeing him now. I fought back the smile though, didn't want him to suspect anything.

"Hey Fetus Face, I was just cleaning up your girlfriend for you. She's pretty fucked up drunk," I said to him, glancing at Quinn who was still smiling at me. She really had to stop doing that before I dropped dead. I fought back the urge to look at her as I looked at Finn again, and smirked.

Finn sighed as he walked past me over to Quinn. Damn, now I really had to look at Quinn. I watched as Finn placed his hand on Quinn's cheek and inspected her.

"Quinn, are you okay?"

Quinn finally broke her gaze with me and looked in Finn's eyes. She was still smiling, but I'm pretty sure that smile wasn't for him. "I am in good health, sir," she answered in an English accent – wait why are you looking at me like that Britt, there's nothing wrong with my English accent! Anyway, Finn gave her his usual stupidly confused look, and I placed my face in my palm in embarrassment.

"Uh, yeah Santana I'm going to take her home," Finn told me. He grabbed Quinn and lifted her up bridal-style. Lucky bastard, he got to touch her thighs.

I gestured to the door in an exaggerated manner, but that was just me being my usual self. "As you wish," I said sarcastically.

Finn walked past me, giving me a nod before he headed out of the door, a drunk Quinn laughing her ass off for no reason. Maybe she was laughing at her boyfriend's stupid face or something, I don't know.

I stared at the doorway for a few more minutes before I could find the will to make it downstairs. I wanted to scream, or hit something. Maybe Puck. But of course you were too busy making out with Puck by the time I got downstairs, thanks a lot Britt.

But, yeah. That's what happened.

* * *

><p>Brittany's been a good girl and kept silent the entire time I was talking. Her facial expression hadn't changed even when I told her in detail that I kissed Quinn, and I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. She's still silent as she observes me, and I start to feel uncomfortable.<p>

Finally she speaks. "So Quinn doesn't know?"

I shake my head. "She was piss drunk. She doesn't remember anything."

She bites her lip and squints her eyes. What can she possibly be thinking about? Is she judging me? She never judges, but maybe this is a first.

"Does that mean that you…y'know-"

I get defensive about it. "No Britt. I don't like girls." But the thought sticks in my head and I acknowledge that I'm not even sure. "At least, I don't think I do."

She places her hand on my knee. "Hey, it's probably because you guys were both buzzed last night. It doesn't mean that you want to kiss her now."

Do I? I just finished checking her out and enjoyed the softness of her leg. And I was even jealous of her Finnocent boy toy. Maybe I'm just thinking too much about that night. If I just leave the memory alone and get on with my life I'll get over it. I don't like girls like that, I've had sex with Puck way too many times to. I'm just freaking out about this whole situation.

"I don't know Britt," I find myself blurting out. I hide my face in my hands in frustration. I don't know what to think anymore. I'm so confused.

Her hand moves to my back and she rubs it up and down in sympathy. At least she doesn't find anything wrong with what I did, and it makes me feel a little less guilty. But this is still all confusing. What does that kiss mean? I should be free because Quinn doesn't remember it.

But what if she ends up remembering it? Then what?

Or worse, what if she does remember and she's just pretending not to because she doesn't want to deal with it either? Ugh, I just want to disappear.

"You wanna know what I do when I want to make sure if I like someone?" she asks me.

I look up from my hands and at her. I'm not sure if I want to cry or scream or just keel over and die, and I feel like Brittany is the only one that can help me out with this? "What?" She smiles at me.

"I kiss them again to see if I still like it."

A laugh forces itself out of my throat. It's not a humored laugh, it's a more oh-my-God-that-is-so-fucking-ridiculous-Britt-what-is-wrong-with-you laugh. Kiss Quinn again? Sober? How the hell would I get away with that?

"Britt, I'm not kissing Quinn again," I tell her, a nervous smile on my face.

She giggles and pats my back. "I'm just saying. But San, please relax. You know people are weird when they're drunk. C'mon remember when I made out with Becky at one of your parties?"

I laugh a more meaningful laugh this time. Of course I remember, and I was unfortunately sober enough to realize what she was doing and now I'm scarred for life. "Yes Britt, I remember that very clearly."

She rests her head on my shoulder and still rubs my back. She's never afraid to be affectionate with me, and I never care because I know it's nothing more than best friends being best friends. "And you don't see me wanting to date Becky. Maybe it was just a one-time thing San. Just let it go, Quinn doesn't have to know."

She's right. Quinn doesn't have to know.

And she never will. I'll make sure of it.

"When did you get so smart?" I sigh out.

She giggles.

"You're rubbing off on me San."


	3. Trying to Understand

**'Sup guys. Glad to know I'm not the only Quinntana shipper 'round haha. I promise the next chapter will finally be more Quinntana-focused, I'm just trying to build it up so it's more enjoyable mmkay? ;)**

**And if you haven't yet, feel free to talk to me on my tumblr (I'm only on the thing every frigging day loool): mrsnayamarierivera . tumblr . com **

**Enjoy! :)**

* * *

><p><strong>{ Q U I N N ' S P O V }<strong>

Grape slushie in hand. I got the large just 'cause.

With my usual Fabray confidence, I walk down the hall, chin up high and looking at no one because everyone is inferior to me. Life revolves around me, others stare in jealousy. All the boys want me, all the girls wish they were me. They stare at my golden strands tied back into a tight ponytail, and they watch as the ponytail bounces up and down with every step I take. That is my only communication with the outside world – my ponytail says to all "you wish you were me, now keep staring and keel over in anguish as you face to the reality that you will never be me". My shiny red and white Cheerios uniform glows in the hallways, shining envy into everyone's eyes. It symbolizes everyone's dream, each thread woven standing for each person who wish they were a Cheerio. Yes. Look on and dream.

The people around me don't matter. My eyes are looking for someone in particular, and unless that person is found no one exists to me right now. People part like the Red Sea to make a path for me. "Yes Miss Fabray," they tell me silently with their eyes. "Excuse us Miss Fabray. We're too inferior to be obstacles to your destination." They don't dare get in my way unless they want to feel my wrath.

There's my target. Wearing a stupid burgundy kitten sweater with a match headband and a long black skirt that looks like the ones the nuns at my church wear – and those Mary Janes? How old is she, five?

I speed so she won't see me coming. She's talking with a tall, skinny male with perfectly sculpted hair – Kurt Hummel. Surprising, usually he's being shoved into a locker by now by either Puck or Karofsky. Or at least he would have a slushie all over his uncommonly feminine face.

The slushie in my hand isn't for him. It's for the hobbit he's talking to. She isn't looking at me at all, too focused on her conversation with Kurt. I have nothing against Kurt, I'm Catholic but not homophobic. Gays are fine with me, and he's never annoyed me. Just the troll he's associating himself with.

I take her inability to notice my presence as an advantage. I close in on the two – they should be siblings, seriously – a smirk growing in on my face. The slushie's calling for her name. "Rachel," it says. "Let me at that little Ru Paul impersonator. She's mine. Give her to me."

Of course, whatever the slushie says goes. I'm now in the perfect slushie distance. She's mine.

She finally notices my presence. The smile she previously had while talking to Kurt vanishes instantly. Her eyes grow into huge saucers, and her disgusting mouth opens with in horror. Yes, that's right, now she gets to see it coming to her.

Kurt notices too, but before he gets the chance to turn around it's too late.

I fling the large cup of iced beverage at her. Purple shoots out and, like a heat-seeking missile, flies straight to her face. She manages to let out a small scream before the purple explodes on her face, shooting everywhere – her face, her clothes, even a few purple chunks landed on Kurt's vest.

I don't stop walking. I slow down a little just so I can tell her something. It's hilarious how ridiculous she looks with purple on her face, and I can't help but let out a cruel laugh. She's so pathetic.

"Hey Barney. Finn's allergic to grape, good luck!" I remark snidely.

I speed up and walk past her, not looking back. I would love to see the look on her face after that, but I have more important matters to deal with.

Like the fact that Finn's standing right in the middle of the hallway a few feet ahead of me and looks pissed.

Oops, he must've seen what I did to Rachel. Oh well.

I walk up to him and give him a loving smile. Nope, I did nothing wrong, why should I act like I did? "Hey baby." I link my arm with his and drag him down the hall.

He goes without question, but he still looks pissed.

"Quinn," he mumbles. "What the hell was that?"

I notice the empty cup in my hand. "Oh, I should probably throw this out right? Silly me-"

"Quinn." He speaks louder this time, and his face turns red. It always turns red when he gets emotional. His tone makes me stop walking, and he stops at the same time. I didn't like his tone at all, how dare he speak me to like that.

"What?" I bite.

He slides his arm away from me and drops it to his side. Instantly my arm felt cold without his, it's not meant to be left alone like that. I want it back, I need it back. Quinn's arm goes with Finn's arm. That's how it's supposed to be.

"You have to stop being cruel to Rachel!" Anger is building up. More than when he defended her during chemistry the other day. He has no right to defend her, that mythological creature isn't his, _I'm_ his.

"Excuse me?" I step away from him, utterly disgusted at what he's doing. What next, is he going to dump me for her? Is he in love with her? "You know what Finn, if you want to date her by all means! See if I care!" I'm angry, but I know I didn't mean that last statement. I would shatter into a million pieces if he ever broke up with me. He's not much but he's my Finn, his arms are the only arms I'll ever feel comfortable in and if we ever separate it'd be as if he was taking my heart with him. I can't live without him, I love him too much.

His face drops and the hue on his face subsides. "No Quinn, that's not why…I…ugh." Frustrated, he runs his hand through his hair. Thankfully he cut it like I told him to, now he looks more handsome. I like my guys with super short hair. Just not bald, he would look horrible bald. Hopefully when we get married he'll have his hair until we die.

"Then why do you keep defending her Finn? Do you know how that makes me feel?" I point at my heart. "Do you know how horrible it is to have your boyfriend choose another girl over you? How would you like it if I did that? People who love each other don't do that!"

Now guilt is on his face. Good, he should feel guilty for putting me through this. My heart was breaking just at the thought of him and Rachel together.

"Quinn I'm…" His hands fly around the air as he thinks of what to say. I mentally dare him to say something else about Rachel or my so-called cruelty. Just one more word. This cup in my hand is ready to be shoved up somewhere it's impossible to fit in.

"Quinn I didn't mean it like that. It just bothers me that you keep doing this to Rachel when she's never done anything to-"

My finger flies from my chest to his face. I point it aggressively at him, almost stabbing him in the face.

"No. When I have a problem with someone, you're on _my_ side. And same when you have a problem with someone. It doesn't matter who the target is. _We're_ each other's first priorities." I can't believe I have to explain this to him. We've been dating for two years, he should know what good boyfriends are supposed to do. He's stupid, but he shouldn't be _that_ stupid.

But I shut him up. His mouth opens and closes several times, but no words come out. Good, that's how it should be. I watch as the guilt and shame burn into his pores and dig inside of his brain, controlling his emotions like a remote-controlled android. I am the controller, he is my creation. He's nothing without me.

I take a step towards him. He just looks at me with his weird-looking brown eyes, possibly trying to read me or trying to figure out what else to say. He doesn't have to say anything else, just silently admit that I'm right and he's wrong.

"Okay?" I say softly. I'm done with the fighting, I hate when we fight.

He nods slowly, making me smile. As a reward for being a good boy, I place my hand on the back of his neck and pull him down, kissing him softly on the lips. He takes a moment to kiss me back, and I lose track of time as we have a small kissing session.

"Oh gross," I hear a voice to my right. It's Santana. "This is worse than watching transsexual-bestiality crossover porn."

I pull away from Finn, but slowly just to annoy Santana. She's always been grossed out by Finn because, according to her, Finn is just "an overgrown baby fetus mutated in an evil scientist's lab where he was giving growth hormones that made him grow twenty feet into the Frankenteen he is today".

I turn to look at Santana and see that she's not alone. As always, Brittany is standing there with her, her slender pale pinky linked with Santana's shorter tan one. These two are inseparable, they might as well be dating.

"I'm sorry, I don't recall asking for you opinion," I snap at Santana. I'm sick of her insulting my relationship with Finn. Just because her and Puck didn't work out doesn't mean she has any damn right to troll onto my relationship. My perfect relationship, I might add.

"Right. Well considering it's fifth period and we have lunch, I was wondering whether or not you wanted to join us or have some raw potatoes in the boys' locker room." She turns to Finn at the potato remark, and my eyebrow twitches in annoyance.

But it's not me that says something. It's Finn. "As honored as I am to be invited to your Satan worshipping rendezvous, I'm not going to lunch. I have a make up test for Mr. Schue's class."

The corner of my lip twitches and I look up at him. He's smiling his stupid half-smile. I love him.

Santana rolls her eyes and looks at Brittany, who isn't smiling. She never smiles when someone insults – or in Finn's case, attempt to insult – Santana, no matter how humorous the insult is. Something about being super close besties or whatever.

Finn leans in and kisses me on the cheek. "I'll see you later?"

I smile for real this time and nod. "Bye."

"I love you," he says to me before heading down the hall towards Mr. Schuester's class.

**{ S A N T A N A ' S P O V }**

Someone please keep me from vomiting.

Disgusting. From the kiss to the "I love you". Seriously, what the fuck is this, Titanic?

No, Titanic is better than this shit. At least the sappy romance crap ended with the guy died. I don't think Finn is planning to freeze to death in the middle of the Atlantic and doing us all a favor.

I look after Finn with disgust as he finally spares all of us and walks away. Yeah buddy, good luck failing your Spanish test. I've heard you attempt to speak my language, it makes me want to cry.

My heart ached the entire time. Jealousy? No, that's ridiculous. I'm not jealous of Finn, there's nothing to be jealous of. He's just gross to look at.

My eyes go back to Quinn and I smile.

"Done with that painful experience. Shall we eat now?" I'm surprised Brittany hasn't said anything.

Quinn sighs. "Yeah whatever. Let's go."

I lead the way, with Brittany working hard to keep her pinky linked with mine. I sway our arms back and forth as we walk, Quinn just behind us. I don't say anything along the way. Just a few side glances at Brittany, who's just looking in front of her. I like her talking, not all quiet like this.

We sit at the same table every day. It's always next to the football players' table, since most of the squad goes out with members of the team. From the entrance of the lunchroom I can already see Puck acting stupid with Karofsky and Azimio. Stupid Puck.

The three of us sit down at the table where Becky is also sitting. Great, I get to have lunch with the annoying Downy.

"Hey guys," she says. Or, at least that's what I think she says. I can never understand what the fuck she's says.

"Hey Becky!" Brittany finally talks. Seriously, it takes a Downy to get her to talk? I feel a bit offended but whatever. Brittany is the first to sit down, next to Becky, and since my pinky is still linked with hers I sit down after she does. Quinn is last, sitting down on my right.

Quinn and I don't bother to say anything to Becky. We never do.

Brittany and Becky proceed to talk about some stupid TV show – a cartoon maybe, what the fuck is a Fanboy? – leaving Quinn and me to talk. My pinky doesn't detach from Brittany's. It would just feel weird without it. It's like my hand needs hers.

I turn to Quinn. "So. Did you slushie Berry?" I ask. She texted me last night saying that she planned to slushie that…thing, and I'm hoping she says no because that's something I don't want to miss it.

Quinn nods, and I frown. "Yep. Got her with a large grape." She smiles at the memory. I'm sure it was wonderful, too bad she couldn't wait for me to witness it.

"Well fuck you for not waiting for me," I mutter. She laughs.

"It was in the moment. Wasn't really thinking about anyone." Selfish bitch.

"Whatever." I roll my eyes.

Puck appears behind us and leans in so his head is between ours. He smiles, looking at Quinn and then at me. Ugh, I know that smile, and I know I'm going to get annoyed within the next five seconds. His face annoys me now, and he's not as hot as he used to be. In my eyes, anyway. Could just be because I've had sex enough times with him. He's getting old for me.

"Hello ladies," he greets us. If he's planning to make a move on Quinn, which wouldn't be surprising, it'd be a low blow since Finn is his best friend. Quinn's smart though, she's never fallen for his charm. Plus, she's way too…_in love_… with Finn to be attracted to him anyway.

"What do you want Puck?" Quinn sighs out.

"Nothin'." The smirk on his face speaks otherwise. Why does he always have to look so pervy? It's annoying.

"Puckerman, if you've got nothing to say to us fuck off," I say through gritted teeth.

He lets out a chuckle. "Baby, I miss you." He's sarcastic, but once he strokes my arm with one finger it sends chemicals to my brain. Not the good kind. The homicidal kind.

"Don't touch me Puck," I say coldly.

Quinn scowls at Puck. She hates it when people harass her friends, even friends that she doesn't get along with at times.

"Hey, Puckerman." She surprises me – and Puck as well – by slapping his hand away and placing her own as a replacement. What is she – the area that she's touching feels warm now.

Puck blinks in confusion, and I'm too focused on where Quinn is touching to even pay attention to their conversation. She talks, he's silent. I don't listen to the words. I stare at the surface of the red table we're sitting in, feeling nothing but the petite porcelain hand that rests on my tan surface. Oh my God, why is her hand there – no, why do I even care where her hand is? It's not supposed – but she's – oh what the –

Her hand is now trailing up and down my arm. My heart is fighting hard to break out of my chest.

Now I feel warm everywhere. Why is she doing that? Everything is distant, like I'm watching TV, voices sound foreign, but I manage to focus enough on what Quinn is saying.

"She has a better shot getting with me than you, Puck." She's teasing of course. She's straight. She's _straight_ Santana and so are you. Stop with the dirty thoughts – oh look I'm randomly thinking of seeing her changing after Cheerio practice – shut the fuck up Santana oh my God.

I wish she would stop stroking my arm like that. I can't breathe.

I look at Puck. I'm not sure what my facial expression is right now, it's numb like I took botox or something. The only thing I can feel is heat. Like I'm just a ball of hot air. I have no skin, no bones, no feelings – no I have feelings otherwise I wouldn't be on the verge of a heart attack right now.

"San?" A whisper in my left ear. It's not Quinn because she's on my right. Brittany. Right I forgot she's here. Is my pinky still linked with hers, I can't feel it. I look down to check. Yep, exactly where it should be.

"Sweetie? Are you okay?"

Quinn's still talking to Puck, I don't care about their conversation anymore. It takes me a while to figure out that she's finally stopped touching my arm. Feeling comes back. Where did her hand go? Whatever, it's best if I don't know. Numbness is gone, I don't care. I still feel warm though, the only not-so-warm part is where Quinn's hand was previously, cooling off now that she's not touching me there anymore. What the hell was that about?

I look at Brittany. Becky's gone from the table. Thank God, she's so annoying. Now I get to talk to Brittany, awesome.

"I'm fine," I whisper back. I didn't mean to whisper. I feel so weak right now. From a touch? That's not normal.

"Hun, your face is flaming," Brittany tells me. Oh fuck, I'm blushing? I bring my free hand up to my face. It's scorching. I imagine my face must be a tomato right now, and that's not going to look good at all in front of Quinn.

I feel Puck move away from us. Oh shit. That means Quinn can –

"You okay Santana?"

**{ Q U I N N 'S P O V }**

Santana's face is the reddest I've ever seen it. In fact, I didn't even know she can blush. Hell, I thought it was a myth she had a beating heart.

She must be pissed about Puck, which is really weird. She never reacts like that when he's around, usually she just shrugs him off and gets on with her life. Unless… oh dear, is Santana in love with Puck?

Gross.

But no, they've been on-and-off for years. They never interested each other except for sex, it seems unlikely that Santana's in love with him.

But maybe that's the thing. Maybe she's come around and realizes she has feelings for him.

That's really gross, but I've always thought they make a cute couple. They're both assholes, why not?

She looks me dead in the eye and nods slowly. Her face refuses to be rid of the tomato-esque color, and I swear a few drops of sweat are squeezing out of her pores.

"Yeah I'm fine," she tells me, though her voice cracks unintentionally. This makes me smile, but it appears my smile freaks her out more because her eyes widen slightly. She knows that I know.

Brittany's just looking at the both of us, both intrigued and, by the way her eyes widens just like Santana's, horrified. Oh, she must think the same thing I am. Or_ know_ the same thing I know. It only makes sense that Brittany knows before me.

"Finn's throwing an anniversary party for us next week," I find myself telling her, a light bulb going off. Finn's doing no such thing, but seeing Santana like this is motivating me to do something about it. I need to plan a way to get Santana and Puck together, so maybe if they realize their feelings for each other then she can finally lay off my own relationship. "Interested?" Of course, I have no idea if Puck feels the same. Puck is Puck after all, he's never legitimately liked a girl and I highly doubt Santana would be any different. But doesn't having a fuck buddy lead to love eventually? I watch too many movies.

Sex complicates everything, Finn and me would probably never make it if we got to that level. We weren't ready.

The caramel comes back to her face, the ferocious red degrading itself to wide pink circles on both cheeks.

"Why the hell would I want to go to one of your celibacy seminars?" she says in a more confident, annoyed voice. It didn't crack this time.

I shake my head. "An actual party, Santana."

She snorts. "That's what scares me Fabray. A party with Mary and Joseph equals two things. No beer and no fun." Her plump lips press together into a thin line. Or, at least the thinnest they can get.

After her party she really expects me to bring alcohol? Ugh. "Look, if assisting people in the deterioration of their livers due to frequent consumption of alcohol makes you happy, then fine, there'll be alcohol."

She gives me a prude smile. "Thaaanks."

Brittany bounces in her seat, looking at me. "That sounds fun, Quinn! I'll totally go."

I look at Brittany and smile at her like I'm smiling at a small child. "Great Britt. And you guys can bring dates if you'd like." I'm not sure why I said that, it's not like she would bring Puck as a date…or would she?

Santana rolls her eyes. "I've slept with all the guys that are probably going to be there." It's true, she slept with the entire football team. "No point in bringing a date. I'll probably end up hooking up with Puck anyway." Aha! A not-so-subtle way of saying that she wants Puck as her date. She's just helping me out with this.

"I'm not really interested in anyone right now," Brittany admits. This is no surprise to me, and I'm sure the same with Santana, since Brittany's slept with the majority of the school. They've both been in my prayers, but it seems even God can't will away their sexual urges.

"That's alright," I say, mostly to her. "It'll be fun. It's me and Finn, it should be fun."

Santana rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, so fun."

* * *

><p>"You <em>what<em>?"

Finn shuts his locker and looks at me with an incredulous expression. Yeah, I had a feeling he wasn't going to like what I said.

I lean away from the locker I had been resting on previously, and I put on my best angel face so he'll fall for it.

"I'm almost positive Santana's in love with Puck, and she's hiding her feelings because…well I'm not sure why but I know they're there!"

Finn shakes his head and walks past me, but I follow him. He has to throw this party, and plus it would be a great anniversary present since next Friday is the anniversary of when he first asked me out.

"Finn."

His face turns red easily, but he's more frustrated than angry. "Quinn, you can't just go telling people I'm throwing a party without telling me first!"

I walk a little faster so I'm next to him. There has to be some way I can convince him to throw this party, it's essential to the both of us if Santana is out of the picture having her own romance.

"I know, but you should've seen how red she was when he was talking to us. It screamed desire, I'm just trying to get them together."

He stops suddenly, and I almost trip over my own feet trying to stop right after him. Jeez, he really needs to warn me when he's going to do stuff like that. "Again, Quinn, you did this without talking to me first. We're a couple, we're supposed to have communication!"

Is he not listening to a word I'm saying? I frown. "Look, if you do this for me you don't have to buy me an anniversary gift."

He throws his hands up in the air. "Quinn! Presents aren't even important right now, what I'm trying to say is-"

"Do you love me?" I interrupt.

"What?" He looks at me like I have a zit on my face.

"I said, do you love me?"

He nods confidently. "Of course I do-"

"Then please Finn. I just need you to throw this party. For me? Please?"

His face drops and he bites his lip. I plead with my eyes, staring into his soul, into his huge heart that grows every day because he's the nicest guy anyone can ask for. He just knows how to love, and that's because he loves me, and his heart pretty much functions properly because of me, and the same with my heart for him. He knows we're soul mates, he knows that one day he's going to kneel on one knee asking me to marry him, then we're going to have three beautiful children together, two girls and one boy. He can't say no to me, because he's willing to do anything and everything for me. So I'm not surprised when he speaks.

"Fine," he says quietly, nodding his head. "Okay. I'll see how I can get my mom out of the house. But on one condition."

Satisfied with his answer, I smile. "Anything." How lucky am I to have him, the hottest boy in school, who would never leave me for anyone, who would never betray me and always make sure I was happy? If the president gave out medals for the greatest boyfriends in the country, he would have ten of them. If it was an Olympic sport, he would be the next Michael Phelps. He is honestly the most –

"You have to invite Rachel."

- idiotic fucking asshole to ever walk the God damn earth.


	4. Every Second is a Lifetime

**Eep, okay let me just start off by saying I'm sorry this took a while to update. I honestly had some minor writer's block with this chapter, but thankfully I pushed through it and I can give you this rather long chapter!**

**Also, tumblr's a bit lonely for me at the moment haha, if you wanna chat just come on down to mrsnayamarierivera . tumblr . com! :)**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>{ S A N T A N A 'S P O V }<strong>

Anxiously I walk around my room in nothing but a black lace thong with a matching bra. I'm looking for an outfit I can wear for Finn and Quinn's party tonight, but at the same time I'm still so distressed by that moment in the cafeteria last week that I take an eternity just to pick an outfit.

"That kind of thing shouldn't happen right?" I ask Brittany, who's laying down on my bed watching me twirl around in my dilemma. There's nothing weird about her seeing me half-naked, we've seen each other wear less than that and never blinked once.

"Sweetie, you need to calm down."

I stop walking and spin around to face her, my raven black hair falling on my face and my eyes squeezed into small slits. "Calm down? Britt, did you ever have a conniption after you made out with Becky that time?"

She looks away deep in thought, losing me for a good ten seconds, before looking my way.

"No, I use protection. Duh San."

Right, I used a smart word, obviously she wouldn't know what a conniption is. I sigh. "What I mean to say is, did your heart race every time she touched you or looked at you, or did you ever want to punch her boyfriend straight in his vagina? I'm boycotting McDonald's now because of him, it's gross."

Brittany sits up. "Santana."

I'm furiously going through my closet now, trying to find a sensible outfit to wear. Something that will make me look desirable, hopefully to both girls and guys. How funny would it be if I got more attention from Quinn than Finn did? "What?"

"Maybe you're just over thinking everything. You've never kissed a girl, so you're just confused, I'm sure it happens to everyone."

I take out a skin-tight black skirt and hold it against my pelvis to try and imagine how it would look at me. It'll do. Better than nothing.

"Has it happened to you?" I'm quite curious because Brittany seems to have more experience than me in this subject.

She hesitates for a moment before answering. "Yeah, yeah no don't worry, it's perfectly normal."

She doesn't sound very sure, but I decide not to call her out on it. Having two stressed people in one room would just be more stressful, and I'm already getting wrinkles with all the stress I've been getting. I think I might be getting a double chin too. And I don't even eat.

I finally decide on a sleeveless black-and-white striped t-shirt to go along with the skirt, and ankle leather boots that, believe me, cost more than all the lives here in Lima put together. My parents have come a long way from Lima Heights Adjacent.

"So cute San!" Brittany compliments me after I put the outfit on. I'm not sure what to do with my hair. Should I tie it back or leave it loose? I don't feel like putting on a headband so I'm conflicted. I look at the huge mirror on my dresser and inspect myself to try and envision what hairstyle would work best.

Brittany pops out behind me – what a fucking creep oh my God – and runs her fingers through my hair. She smiles at me through the mirror and starts messing around with it, probably trying to help me decide as well.

"You could totally split it on the left side and just leave it loose," Brittany says to me as she begins to separate my hair on the right side of my scalp.

"That's the right side, Britt."

"I know it is, I just said left."

"No, I mean that's the right side of…you're on the wrong side of my head Brittany left is on the other side!" Sometimes it's frustrating explaining things to her because she's so simple-minded.

She throws my hair back where it was originally like it was hot coal and instead goes on the opposite side. "Oops."

I let out a small laugh and watch her do her magic. Her fingers handle my scalp with care, flowing through hair like it was water, or perhaps silk, and honestly it feels nice because I've always loved head massages.

"There," she says as she finishes splitting up my hair. She removes her hands from my scalp which begins to feel cold without her touch. Damn, I was really enjoying that unofficial head massage. Oh well.

"Thanks Britt." I grab my brush and run it through my hair to finish it off.

Brittany stands there, watching me fix my hair. "So does this mean I'm allowed to make out with Puck if he asks me?"

I scoff, a bit disgusted that Brittany still wants to make out with Puck after all these years. "Gross Britt, don't you at least want to make out with someone besides him?" I put my brush down and grab lip gloss, the beginning of my application of makeup on my face.

"Who else is there to make out with? He's the only hot one on the football team."

"What about Sam?" I ask. He's single, not that bad looking if you look past that huge gap on his face that's called a mouth. I survived the last time I kissed him, and he's not that bad in bed either.

"His lips scare me," she says with a frown. "He might end up sucking my lips off. And I like my lips."

I laugh, almost smearing lip gloss on my face. "He's not horrible, I made it out alive."

Brittany's face scrunches up. "That's gross."

I let out another laugh and put the lip gloss down. Time for eyeliner. Wait, doesn't that come before the lip gloss? Fuck, all this Quinn business is making me lose my sense in being a hot cheerleader. "What? He's cute in the dark."

Brittany shakes her head and very childishly says, "I don't wanna."

"It'd be an improvement from Becky."

She doesn't take it as a joke. She looks away and rolls her lips over her teeth, her eyes squeezing toward each other slightly.

"I don't know, girls' lips are softer than guys, it's nice." Exactly what I had been thinking when I told Brittany about Quinn. I stop applying the eyeliner and look at her reflection with an expression of curiosity, her own facial expression that of something secretive that I didn't notice before.

"Britt, are you…?"

She blinks. "Am I what?"

I stare at her reflection for a long time, and she just looks back at me with the same stupid face, but in those eyes there is something mysterious that I feel isn't ready to come out yet. So I decide to leave it.

It's better to find out my own situation first before I go off trying to find hers.

"Are you ready to go? I don't want Quinn having a heart attack because we're late."

Brittany's expression changes fast. She gives me her usual dumb smile and nods happily. "Okay!"

I wait for her to turn around before I roll my eyes and shake my head with a smile. She's such a child.

* * *

><p><strong>{ Q U I N N ' S P O V }<strong>

I angrily set down the last bottle of Grey Goose onto the table, which has been moved into the living room to act as a drinks and snacks station for the party.

Finn is behind me, his face painted red with frustration.

"Okay. I manage to get my mom out of the house to throw this party for you, for our _anniversary_, and now you're not even going to talk to me?"

I face him with my arms crossed, my bright eyes burning into his already-red skin. Of course I'm not talking to him, he did something that was totally unforgiveable. Who the hell invites Rachel Berry to a party?

I say nothing to him, which upsets him more.

"I don't know why you're so upset about Rachel coming!"

Is he freaking serious?

"I don't know why you're such a moron!"

His jaw pushes forward and his eyebrows press together so closely they almost touch. Now his face is a mix of anger and confusion, and it's really freaking annoying that he's too stupid to know that there's a lot wrong with placing Rachel Berry and me in the same vicinity. Oh wait, he probably doesn't even know what the hell "vicinity" means anyway. Why bother?

"I'm tired of this crap Quinn!" he shouts, making me flinch because he rarely raises his voice at me unless he's really upset. "You're so…" He raised his hands as he tries to find the right word for me. Oh, this is going to be good. "Spoiled!"

I turn my head slightly to the right and lean in towards him. "I'm what?"

"Spoiled Quinn! You're spoiled. I do everything for you and you never appreciate it!"

My head leans away as I give him an incredulous expression, not believing a word he's saying. I'm spoiled? And I don't appreciate things he does for me? If anything, he never appreciates anything _I_ do for _him_._ He's_ the spoiled one!

"_Excuse_ me if my boyfriend I've been madly in love with for two years decides to invite the girl that I've hated since freshman year who, by the way, is obviously madly in love with him. _Excuse_ me if I feel threatened that my boyfriend of two years invited her when I'm already concerned about whether he likes her or not-"

I smack him hard on the arm, making him pull back and give me a horrified look. I grit my teeth and hiss through them.

"- and _excuse_ me for loving my boyfriend of two years so much that I'm afraid of losing him because of some fucking drag queen who dresses like a Sunday school teacher!"

His face softens as I yell at him. Good. If that isn't proof enough that I appreciate him then I don't know what is, because I cannot fathom life without Finn Hudson, my destined husband-to-be who I will spend the rest of my life with.

"But hey. I clearly don't love you. I clearly don't appreciate you. So whatever."

I turn to walk away from him but his hands quickly attach to my shoulders, and he turns me around to face him. I look down at those ridiculous pair of blue Nikes he's wearing. Seriously, who told him that look was okay? Sneakers should never be that shade of blue.

"Quinn." He sounds calmer now, sympathetic. I say nothing, my eyes attached to his blinding blue shoes. Ugh. At least it matches his blue plaid shirt but it's still a horrible color for sneakers.

He pulled me in for a hug, and I nestle into his chest, inhaling the familiar smell of Axe body spray. Not a very attractive smell at all, I should've bought him a new cologne instead of a watch for our anniversary.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly before he kisses the top of my head. "I didn't mean to upset you."

I snort. "Yeah, okay," I mumble into his chest.

"No I mean it." He hugs me tighter and nuzzles his face into my hair. "I just don't like when you terrorize Rachel like this. I'm doing this so you guys can try to get along."

"That's disgusting, Finn."

I hear him shoot air out of his nose, probably what's supposed to be a silent chuckle. "You've never gotten to know her Quinn. She seems cool."

"'Cool' and 'Rachel Berry' do not go together unless 'is not' is in the middle."

He kisses my scalp again, lighter this time. "Just this one time. If it doesn't work out then I'll leave you alone about it. Okay?"

"Whatever."

We pull away from each other and connect our eyes. Finn's arms are still around me, and he gives me his half-smile. "I love you Quinn Fabray. Nothing and no one's ever gonna change that, alright?"

I can't help but smile. He always wins me over with his love confessions and reassurances that even he's not stupid enough to fall in love with someone else. "Okay."

He leans in and pecks me on the lips, even that being strong enough to make my heart soar and morph into a million beautiful bright-colored butterflies that roam free in my tummy. No one else will ever have the same effect, it just proves we're meant to be.

The doorbell rings. Damn it.

"I'll get it," he tells me. He releases me from his grasp and speeds over to the door. Hopefully it's a footballer player or someone more relevant to my life.

"Hey!" I hear Finn say after opening the door. "C'mon in, you're just in time."

I hear several footsteps before Sam and Mike walk into the living room. Mike's holding a pack of canned beer in his hands while Sam is just digging his hands into his pocket.

"Hey guys," I greet them.

Mike smiles and nods while Sam beams and waves. "Hey Quinn!" he says cheerfully. He always seems happier in my presence. Weird.

I sit down on Finn's couch while Finn tells the guys what to do. "Mike you can just place the beer on the table over there. Sam, go on have a seat man, relax."

Sam smiles and gives Finn a nod as Mike goes to his designated location with Finn right behind him. Sam sits on the couch I'm sitting on, though on the opposite site of it as if he's too scared to sit next to me or something.

"So um, happy anniversary!" He's so awkward. I admit it's kind of cute and reminds me of Finn, but he's a nerdy kind of awkward. Finn is just…stupid awkward.

"Thanks," I say with a smile. His face turns red as soon as he sees my smile, good Lord. I'll be saying a prayer tonight just for him to get some game and stop getting so nervous every time he comes in contact with a female.

He has nothing else to say after that. He silently picks at a pillow his arm his resting on, looking away from me. Whatever, conversations with him are about Stars Wars and other shit I don't really care for, anyway.

Finn and Mike come to save the day as they walk back over to the couch. Finn has what appears to be Mike's coat in his hands. "Hey Sam, coat?"

Sam looks up at Finn and subconsciously licks his lips. I can imagine how many times a day he must do that considering how large they are. "Uh, yeah man thanks." He takes off his brown jacket and hands it to Finn with a smile.

Mike sits on a chair that's right next to the couch, close to Sam as I stare longingly at Finn who disappears to go and put away Mike and Sam's coats. Ugh, can he just stay?

I hear the door open again, it's definitely not Finn because he just left to put the coats away. What the hell? I turn into the general direction of the door to see who it is, and in walks Puck. Oh lovely, he's so polite as to let himself in-

Rachel walks in behind him, a sheepish look on her face.

The hell?

Mike and Sam greet Puck, but I'm staring at Rachel like she has food in her teeth. Did she arrive at the party with Puck or was it just a coincidence that they were walking in together?

"Why the hell are you here with her?" I interrupt the reunion.

Puck looks at Rachel then at me with a don't-you-know face. No, I don't know. Know what? Oh my God if they're dating I'm going to vomit.

"We go to the same synagogue," he tells me matter-of-factly. The fu…what?

Oh right, they're both Jewish.

But ew that's an excuse to associate himself with her?

Ew ew ew.

I raise an eyebrow.

Puck presses his own eyebrows together. "What? Her parents are friends with my mom and she made me drive her to this party."

Rachel looks at Puck with a frown. Clearly he's not telling the truth one hundred percent, but whatever.

"Hi Rachel!" I hear Sam say.

"Hey Rachel," Mike greets just as friendly.

Okay, clearly the football players have no problem with her, whatever. I need some Cheerio power to level out the playing field because there's no way I'm going to look like the black sheep here.

Rachel gives Mike and Sam a friendly smile. "Hi."

She's intimidated. Good.

Finn walks in to save the day once more, this time both for Rachel and me because I was about to grill her ass, and gives her a smile that makes me want to punch an unborn baby. And I'm pro-life.

"Hey Rach." Rach? They're on nickname terms now? Oh my _God_.

Rachel blushes and smiles nervously at Finn. "H-hi Finn-"

Nope, already going over the line. "Finn, give everyone a drink," I command with as sweet of a smile as having Rachel Berry in this house will allow. God knows I'm going to need a drink to handle the rest of tonight. Just not enough to forget about this night completely. Well wait, that doesn't sound too bad since I have one of Snow White's seven dwarves here. Hm.

Finn nods hesitantly and gestures Puck and Rachel to the available seats. "Do you want a beer Rachel?" he asks her.

Rachel shakes her head. "No thank you, I don't like alcohol."

Obnoxious laugh from me. She looks down at the ground in shame.

Finn gives me a look that I don't appreciate, and he walks over to the table to collect drinks for everyone.

Puck sits between me and Sam – thank God – while Rachel sits in an empty chair opposite from all of us. Good.

Now that half of my objective potential couple is here, it's time for Lucy Quinn Fabray to get to the bottom of things.

I lean in Puck's direction. "So Puck. Are you going to use my boyfriend's house as an opportunity to pick up some poor lonely soul like it's a whorehouse?" Why not speak his language?

Puck raises an eyebrow.

"Hey, it's not my fault if your friends have good taste," he says in a cocky tone. "I've already boned all over 'em, why not again?"

Must not grimace.

"Anyone in particular or do are you going to wing it like you always do?"

He's giving me a look. Yeah, it's very weird of me to ask these questions, usually I could care less who he hooks up with.

"I always wing it." He rolls his eyes. "Although thanks to you Santana's probably off the list."

Santana. Perfect. "Oh you know I was just joking last week. I'm sure she'd still be interested."

"Depends how drunk we both get."

Yeah, alcohol always seems to be the catalyst to their sexual urges.

Finn passes around beers to everyone except Rachel. Instead he gives her a cup of what must be some kind of punch or whatever. What a lame duck.

"Dude," Finn mutters to Puck as he stands in front of him. I look at Puck while he looks at the both of us.

"What?"

"_Dude_."

"_What?_"

"Stop being a cockblock Puck," Mike says with a laugh.

Puck rolls his eyes. "Okay jeez." He hops up from the couch and pats Finn's shoulder. "All yours _dude_." Finn gives him a smile and hops on the couch next to me, wrapping his arm around me afterwards and holding me close.

Good. I'm starting to forget Berry's here already.

* * *

><p><strong>{ S A N T A N A ' S P O V }<strong>

Forty minutes late, oops.

Arms linked with Brittany, I ring Finn's doorbell. Compared to my house, his is pretty run-down and crappy. Seriously, how old is this house?

The door flies open, and what better way to have my heart jump than to see Quinn's flawless face appear behind it. Not a strand of blonde hair out of place, her petite body wrapped in a red and white summer dress with red flower design. Why does she always dress like a preschooler? Outside of the Cheerios uniform she really needs to consider her outfit choices. What's the point of looking hot when you dress like you're going to Sunday school?

It really does look good on her, though. I can't help but look down at those shapely legs.

I look back up at her and see she's scowling at me. Shit, did she see me check her out just now?

"You're late."

Oh, right.

"Hold on to your granny panties, Fabray." I roll my eyes and tug at Brittany's arm. "It's just the usual people, I highly doubt we missed anything."

Quinn sighs and gestures us to come inside. Brittany and I are in sync walking into the house together, and I hear music playing – but not too loud, since I wasn't able to hear it until I walked into the house. What gives? Usually I hear music blasting and the football players laughing obnoxiously with each other, sometimes playing stupid games like beer pong. All I hear is casual conversation.

And I understand why as soon as I walk into the living room.

The first thing I see is a troll I could've sworn was supposed to be out guarding her bridge tonight. I scowl and release my arm from Brittany's. What the fuck is…

"The fuck is _that_ doing here?" I spit.

Rachel looks at me with wide and pained eyes, her goblin lips curving down into a frown. Was she the party clown hired to keep us entertained with magic tricks and animal balloons or something? Quinn didn't serious invite her, did she? Because I'm going to have to fucking beat her with that crucifix she hangs up above her bed, all straight and perfect because she feels the need to be anal about everything, probably because she's so perf-

Okay no idea why my mind went there, I have to stop.

Quinn appears next to me with an apologetic look. Damn right she better look sorry.

"I was afraid if I told you, you wouldn't show up," she says quietly, though it's loud enough for Rachel to hear.

I cross my arms and turn to Quinn. I'm not afraid to speak out loud in front of one of the cast members of Little People. "I wouldn't have. Jesus Quinn, are you throwing a party or a fucking charity for the deformed underprivileged members of the Lollipop Guild? There's no way in hell I'm going to stay here with that aro-"

I stop mid-sentence as I see Brittany move from the corner of my eye over to Rachel, a smile on her face. What the hell is she doing?

"Hi Rachel!" she greets _it_, making my jaw drop to the floor. I'm not sure what to say. Should I be pissed at her? No, I can't be mad at Brittany. It's impossible to be mad at her, it's like she has this superpower where she can create an invisible force field that makes her impervious to hate of any kind. Even from me, and I hate everyone. Everyone except Britt, of course. I don't know how she does it, no wonder why she's my best friend.

Rachel looks at Brittany suspiciously at first, but as Brittany continues talking to her she loosens up.

"Do you have any cats?" There she goes, acting random again. "I have two. I love them. And you wear a lot of sweaters with cats and stuff on them so you must like them."

My jaw closes, then opens again as I try to find something to say. Nothing. There's nothing that can be said about that.

"Hey Santana." Blubber Tits walks up to me with a bottle of beer and holds it out to me. He has a smile on his face, but I know it's not sincere since I've never been the nicest person in the world to him. My name isn't Brittany Pierce.

"Sup Frankenteen." I snatch the beer from him and take a long sip.

Finn says nothing more to be and instead goes to sit on the couch in between Sam and Puck. Oh great, Trouty Mouth and Judas Iscariot. Sitting on the floor around the coffee table are the other football players, bottles and bottles of beer around them. Damn, if they drank all the good booze I'm going to go all Lima Heights.

"The girls are upstairs in Finn's mom's room." Quinn grabs my attention immediately and my eyes lock onto her soft face. God, her face is so soft.

"Alright let's go then. There's too much testosterone and troll stench in here for me to breathe properly." I turn to Brittany. "Brittany! We're going upstairs, c'mon."

Brittany takes herself out of her pointless conversation with Rachel and looks at me. Like a child, she gives me a bright smile and skips over to Quinn and me, leaving behind a disappointed Berry. Oh well, no one told her to come to this fucking party anyway. And speaking of her even being here, why the fuck is she here?

I look over at Quinn, and her eyes are wide. What did I say?

"Are you sure? I was going to call the girls down, y'know so everyone could hang ou-"

I shake my head. "What? Ew no. I only want to be around guys if I'm horny, and my lady loins are perfectly calm at the moment. So let's go upstairs." I take a step towards the stairs, but then Quinn takes a step in front of me. What the fuck.

"Well, since you make out with at least one guy at every party you're at, why not just choose someone now? How about Puck?"

I raise an eyebrow. What the hell is she talking about? Puck is one of the last people I even want to look at.

"I'd rather make out with your boyfriend than him. And that's saying at lot because I've never found Mr. Potato Head attractive."

Her eyes squint slightly in annoyance. I shrug, not really caring if she's annoyed.

Brittany's hand brushes against mine, and I take that as a sign to hold it. My fingers curl through hers gently, my eyes never leaving Quinn's face. Face. Pretty face. Geez.

Why the fuck would I make out with Puck when she was right-

Oh my _God_ Santana shut _up_.

"Are you interested in anyone else?" She's creeping me out with these questions, she usually never cares who I'm with. "Someone I don't know about?"

Maybe. "No."

"Really? No guys at this school?"

No. "Not really."

"No one at _all_?"

Possibly. "Fabray, what are you on about? Because usually you prefer to not know about who I fuck or kiss or whatever. It's like my sex life burns your virgin ears, so spit it out."

Quinn's lips form a straight line, signifying that she's not going to tell me what I want to know. She's obviously up to something, and honestly a tiny part of me is thinking that she found out about the kiss and is now thinking about the same things I'm thinking. Fuck, what if she does know? She probably wants to see if I'm interested in anyone just because she…holy shit… what if…

My heart hears my thoughts and starts having a rock concert in my chest. The butterflies escape from their cages in my stomach and fly free, making me feel sick. Shit, what am I going to do? What if she knows everything?

"It's nothing Santana."

I scoff. "You suck at lying, Quinn."

She glances away to look at something and then back to me. What? Was that supposed to mean something? I turn my head slightly, far enough to predict where she was looking. At the couch, I guess. The _couch_? Let's see, there's Finn, Sam, and Puck. She was looking at one of them. Finn's the most likely, just because that's the "love of her life" or whatever. But judging from what she's holding back from me, there's no reason why she would look at him. So that leaves Sam and Puck. I've had sex with both, though Puck's way better. Sam was one of the nerdy virgins that are awkward during it, and it kind of made me imagine what having sex would Finn would be like. Quinn's going to be so screwed if she ends up fucking him, seriously. Sex with Puck is – well, _was_ great, but we'd done it so many times it got boring. I'm so not intere-

Wait a minute.

Sam's out of the equation. Automatically. He's nothing to me. I have way more of a history with Puck than anyone else in the room.

My eyes come back to Quinn.

"Do you…"

Slowly my finger on the hand that's wrapped around my beer comes up in front of me and I jab it accusingly at Quinn. I know exactly what she's thinking.

"Do you think I have something for _Puck_?"

Shocked expression on her face. I hit the jackpot with that one. Now the butterflies in my stomach turn into gooey slime that just makes me want to vomit.

"Wh-what? N-no-"

Brittany snorts a giggle. Yeah, exactly.

Thank God the boys are now laughing loud enough so they can't hear this conversation. I'd be fucked if Puck heard this.

"Quinn, that's fucking gross. What is _wrong_ with you?" I clutch my stomach exaggeratedly. "Jesus hold on I'm about to have an involuntary bulimic attack. Where's the bathroom?"

Quinn scowls. Ugh, she's nice to look at and all but I can't bring myself to look at her right now. I'm not sure what's in that bread they give out at Mass on Sundays, but there must be some kind of crack or some shit in it, because never in my life did I expect her to think I had feelings for Noah Puckerman of all people. Ew.

"Santana, don't play coy with me," she growls, surprising me.

"You think I'm lying? Jesus Quinn, did you have too many beers, or? I thought you learned your lesson from the last party." Heart pinches at the thought of that night again.

Now it's her turn to jab her finger towards me. "I saw you at lunch last week! When Puck came by our table you looked so hot and bothered. Not even in the pissed off way. In the more 'oh my God he's so close to me what am I going to do' kind of way!"

"That wasn't even because of Puck!"

Fuck. That came out before I even got the chance to properly process what the hell Quinn said.

I'm so fucked.

The scowl is gone and replaced by a confused expression. Shit, shit, fuck me gently with a chainsaw.

"What?"

If she finds out it was because of her I'm going to be so fucked.

What am I going to do?

Holy shit I can't breathe.

Help.

Brittany's hand is squeezing mine tightly.

I still can't breathe.

Fuck.

Help.

Help.

My lungs aren't working.

I need to chug down the beer.

My hand isn't moving.

Brittany?

I can feel her eyes on my face. It's burning exactly where she's looking.

Quinn is still looking at me.

What the fuck.

What do I say.

My face is burning.

My heart isn't beating.

The butterflies are dead.

Shit.

_Brittany_.

I can't move.

Wait, I can move my mouth.

Okay Santana, you can do this. Say something.

_Anything_.

C'mon Santana-

"Yo, Powerpuff Girls. Call the other Cheerios downstairs, we're playing spin the bottle."

Shut the fuck up Pu-

Holy shit _Puck_!

You sir, are my fucking hero. If things don't get messy tonight you so deserve a hand job.

Maybe a blowjob if I'm in a good mood.

Maybe just sex. No, not sex. I don't owe him that much.

Quinn finally looking away brings the air back into my lungs and I take a deep breath. That was close, way too close. I'm hoping that she doesn't question what I meant later, because then it'll be the end. But I feel safe for now. I look over at Brittany, and there's a horrified expression on her face.

"Puck, we can't play that. Some of us are currently in a relationship," Quinn scolds.

I'm afraid to leave Brittany's face, so I don't look at Puck's reaction.

"Oh c'mon Mary Magdalene. Live a little."

Quinn sighs. "Mary Magdalene used to be a prostitute."

I suddenly want to jump off a cliff because that's the same thing she told me when I called her that.

"Hey Quinn, it's alright if you play. I won't care," I hear Finn say.

"What? Finn don't be ridiculous."

Brittany looks like she wants to give me a hug. For once I could use a hug, but I settle for tightening my grip on her hand instead. We can hug later.

"They can play if they want, I'm out."

"Ugh such a fucking nun." Puck.

"Dude," Finn says defensively. "That's my girlfriend!"

"Wait. Finn, are you playing? Because last I checked those lips belonged to no one except me."

"Ew," I slip out. Oops. Brittany cracks a smile.

"What? Of course not Quinn."

"Good."

"I'll go get the girls so you losers can have some fun, then." I feel Quinn walk away from Brittany and me and hear footsteps go up the stairs. Thank God.

I take my gaze off Brittany's face and look down, letting out another deep breath. My lungs haven't entirely recovered yet, but thankfully I won't suffocate. My face is still steaming hot, though.

"San, are you okay?" Brittany whispers. But before I can answer her I hear Puck call out to me.

"Yo Santana, are you going to play?"

I look at him and want to vomit after what Quinn said to me. What the hell appeal does Puck have? Yes, he's really fucking hot, and totally sexy in the sack, but that doesn't mean I'd feel for him any other way. But now I understand why Quinn thought that way.

When I almost had a panic attack in the cafeteria that day, she thought it was Puck that made me feel that way.

But it wasn't him, obviously. It was the way she had caressed my arm jokingly as a light gay joke to Puck. Her soft, small fingers brushing up lightly against my skin, sending lightning bolts all through my veins right to my heart where it overloaded and nearly brought me into cardiac arrest. The chaos in my body was shown in the flaming blush on my face, a color never seen before. I never blushed for someone like that before.

Not even Puck.

I'm scared about what I've been feeling. I don't know what's going on. And I just wish someone can tell me the answer. But there's no one, I'm alone. Well, not entirely alone since I have Brittany, but Brittany can only do so much for me. I suppose that's better than nothing.

I put on my best unfazed expression I can give and look at Puck.

"Obviously Puckerman," I tell him with a seemingly uninterested tone. "Besides the booze there's clearly nothing else to do here."

My eyes fall onto Rachel, who will unfortunately be my punching bag for the night. I need someone to distract me from all these foreign feelings.

"Are you playing Berry? I would prefer if you just guarded the door incase any villagers try to chase Finn out of town." Double whammy for me. The horrified look on her face is priceless. "Wouldn't want Frankenteen in trouble." I turn to Finn, who's looking away with an annoyed look, and smile.

I remember the beer that's in my hand. I take a nice, long sip, feeling as the bubbly liquid burns through my esophagus and leaves behind a strong taste in my mouth. I'm going to need at least ten more before I can feel better.

"San?" Brittany whispers again. I see that she looks very worried, which just makes me feel worse.

"I'll be fine Britt," I mutter to her. "Let's just play this game. I need some lips to make out with."

* * *

><p><strong>~ Q U I N N ' S P O V ~<strong>

I refuse to have a repeat of Santana's party and drink too much. It's creepy to not have a clue about what happened that night, and I swore from then on I would never be drunk again.

I sit on the couch with Finn, my head resting on his shoulder, as we watch everyone else sit around in a circle on the floor, spinning bottles and being loud and obnoxious. It's Sam's turn to spin the bottle, and I'm actually interested in seeing who he's going to have to kiss.

The bottle lands on Mike, making everyone laugh.

"Pucker up Sam!" Mike jokes.

Sam laughs and leans forward to spin the bottle again. "Very funny Mike."

Wait, something bothers me.

"Hey wait," I protest. "Why is it okay for the girls to kiss each other but not the guys?"

It's true. The guys cheered on as some of my fellow Cheerios ended up kissing each other, but every time a guy spun on another guy, they just kept spinning until they landed on a girl. Where was the equality in that?

Sam looks over at me, his cheeks rouge from his consumption of alcohol. "What?"

My eyebrow twitches. "You heard me."

Sam sits back into his regular position and looked at me in confusion. "What do you mean Quinn? Guys aren't supposed to kiss guys unless they're…y'know."

My jaw pops forward in anger. Did he seriously just say that? He's one of the sweetest football players I've ever known, how could he say such things?

"Excuse me? And what about the girls? Are they gay because they had to kiss each other?"

Sam opens his mouth to say something, but it's clear that the words are stuck in his throat. He looks at his fellow football players for support, and the only one who's willing to help him out is Karofsky. Ugh, I hate him.

"Two girls kissing is hot, Quinn. Two guys kissing is just really gay and really gross."

Oh, now I'm furious. I straighten up and sit on the edge of my seat, my hands curling into fists on my lap to keep myself from punching something. "Why is two girls kissing hot, Karofsky? Please, educate me."

Karosfky scoffs and looks over at Puck who is sitting cross-legged next to him. "Is she serious, bro?"

Puck blinks at Karofsky, caught off-guard at being left to explain it to me. He takes a moment to think about what he's about to say, then looks at me. His expression tells me he's unsure about what the hell he's talking about, which is no surprise because it doesn't make any sense.

"It's just alright for two girls to kiss, Quinn. Like…there's just something really sexy about the way they touch each other and stuff. Like they know how the other works. It's hot."

I'm trying my best not to grab that bottle in the middle of the living room and smashing against one of the guys' heads. How can they be so ignorant and close-minded? Do they not hear what they're saying? They're using girls as objects for their own selfish pleasures, not even bothering to return the favor. I have no problem with girls kissing other girls, but when guys start taking advantage of that, then there's a problem.

"Oh okay, so if I were to kiss let's say Santana," I gesture over to her, and her eyes widen immediately. "it would be completely different than Sam and Mike kissing?"

The guys all look at each other and give me the same answer in unison. "Yeah."

My head whips over to Finn, who looks at me all puzzled. He's the only one I can count on right now. Maybe if he gets the way I'm thinking he, as quarterback of the team, can influence the guys to think the same thing.

"Honey, what do you think about this?" I ask him.

He looks at me and then at the guys. He tenses up, the pressure of the decision making him uncomfortable. I'm a bit annoyed that he even has to think about what to say. He's supposed to side with me on everything, his answer should've come out by now.

"Uh…"

I shift position so I'm facing him. "Finn. Don't you agree with me?"

His face is turning pale. The more his face changes color the more I can already predict his answer.

"Uh, well, I think the guys have a point."

My face drops and my heart stings at the betrayal. Is he fucking serious? Is he seriously not agreeing with me?

"Care to explain more about that, Finn?" I hiss.

Finn leans away from me, fearful of getting his eyes clawed out. Good, he should be scared.

"Babe, people don't really like it when guys kiss other guys. It's not a very manly thing to do."

"Oh, I'm sorry?" I look over to Rachel, who is sitting next to Puck. She hasn't spun the bottle yet and also hasn't been kissed. Guess the universe didn't want to punish others with having to even touch her, but I'm not worried about insulting her right now. I remember that she has two gay dads, and I'm sure she's very uncomfortable with this conversation. She looks uncomfortable, anyway. "Not manly? You want to tell Rachel that?"

Finn's face morphs into a horrified look, and his head snaps to Rachel. "O-oh no, Rachel I didn't mean it like that-"

"It's fine," she says quietly, looking down. I'm sure she wants to go home right now.

"Maybe you should consider who's around you before you start preaching your homophobic bullshit," I say, looking at Finn but actually talking to all of the guys.

"Her dads are just a bunch of fags."

My head turns to the source of that voice.

Fucking Azimio.

"Excuse me?"

"Her dads are a bunch of fags," he repeats, his eyes pressed together. "Flaming, unmanly, testosterone-less fags. How gay is it to have to make a baby without a chick?"

Oh.

That's it.

I jump to my feet, my face burning with indescribable anger. The homophobia in this room is unbelievable, and I'm not going to stand for it. My family may be full of the typical Christian homophobia, but I refuse to be sucked into such hateful bullshit. Everyone is equal. Gays, straights, everyone. And I'll be damned if people I associate myself with think otherwise.

People probably think I'm going to slap Azimio. But I'm not.

I spin to face Santana and stomp over to her. She's looking up at me, her eyes still wide but her mouth is now slowly opening. She's about to get so confused, but I'm trying to send out a message.

I slide onto my knees and land right in front of her. Finn wants to think like those assholes? Fine.

I cup her face in my hands. Her face is pink and warm, probably from all the alcohol she drank. How many bottles of beer did she have? Five?

"Quinn, what the fuck are you-"

Santana doesn't get to finish her sentence.

My face goes forward.

My hands are firm on her face.

None of it is slow motion, it happens all too fast.

My lips are now on hers.

But something happens.

I hear an explosion in the background. No, not just one explosion. Multiple. The sound is familiar.

My eyes are open, so I see my vision brighten. More explosions. I swear I've heard that sound before, but from where?

I feel heat shoot from my lips down to my stomach. I can now feel the same explosions go crazy in my stomach, but the sound is still screaming in my ears. Where have I heard that sound before?

My lungs stop functioning. I lost the ability to breathe. What's going on?

I'm scared. This is exactly how it feels when I kiss Finn.

I've kissed other guys before, never felt like that with anyone but Finn.

My heart is fluttering. No, not even. The beat is so irregular I might have to go to the hospital.

Heat is now growing on my face like a virus. What's going on?

The explosions again. Wait, now I know where I've heard it.

Those are the sound of fireworks.

_Fireworks_.

Wait. Santana's lips.

She isn't kissing me back, but that's not what is bothering me.

Her lips.

They feel so…

… familiar.

Oh my God. Why is my head getting all light?

Light with déjà vu.

Déjà vu? What the hell?

I've never kissed Santana before. Never.

Something is so wrong with this, I almost feel…at home?

Oh my God Quinn, what the hell are you talking about?

And why can't I pull away?

I wouldn't know if people are talking around us, the explosions would be washing their voices out. I'm not sure if I want to hear other people talk.

No Quinn, you have to pull away now.

But I don't want to.

But you have to.

No.

Yes.

No.

Yes.

_No_.

_Yes_.

Fuck you.

No, fuck you Quinn. Pull away. _NOW_.

I find the will to do it and pull away with a big gasp. Yes, I can breathe again.

But my insides are going crazy right now, what the hell?

My lips are tingling. Tingling with…desire for more?

Jesus Christ Quinn, what are you talking about?

I look at Santana, into those dark eyes whose beauty I haven't acknowledged before. Actually, all of Santana seems more…well, beautiful than usual. Possibly because the lighting in the room has improved. Her skin seems tanner, her hair shinier, her lips plumper…

The explosions have stopped, but now a drumming noise has conquered my ears.

Heat is still on my face. Am I blushing? Oh God why would I be blushing?

I can't read Santana's face. Her eyes have gone back to normal, no longer wide. Her expression is completely blank. What am I supposed to gather from that? She isn't giving me any hints.

What the hell was that just now?

We seem to be staring at each other for what feels like an eternity. How much time has passed? Hours? Days? Centuries?

I'm so confused. But I'm brought back to reality when I hear Karofsky's voice.

"Holy shit, that was hot."


End file.
